Whispers of the Night
by A Lovestruck A2
Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons.. Sequel to Shadows of the Heart. Trigger warnings inside, rated for mature content. (FemDragonbornxAstrid, mentions of FemDragonbornxSerana)
1. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 1

_**A/N: Hello all, and welcome to the very first chapter of the sequel to Shadows of the Heart, Whispers of the Night. This story will broken up into several 'books' and cover several arcs. But before we begin: **_

_**You are getting a trigger warning for this story. You will see various suicide attempts throughout. Mentions of rape will also spring up. I'm not pulling any punches here. If this isn't your kind of story, please walk away now while you have the chance. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 1***

Geldis was wiping a mug clean with one of his many rags in the Retching Netch Cornerclub when he heard one of the miners talking about a rumor that had been circulating a lot in recent weeks. The dunmer recognized the man was one of his most consistent patrons, and he lent an ear out to listen in on the conversation considering the topic of conversation.

Business today was unusually slow, with the only patrons so far being Captain Veleth, the miners that just entered, and that poor woman who came to the island a year ago. Geldis glanced over at the blonde Nord, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the poor girl. She was young, and yet the sad look in her brilliant golden eyes was enough to tell him that she had suffered a lifetime of pain.

She was clad in simple clothes, wearing a long sleeved white shirt and black pants that clung to her frame. A half dozen small glasses were stacked neatly in front of her, and she downed another shot of Geldis' famous Bretonese whiskey. She had been in the cornerclub for a good portion of the day drinking, and she looked absolutely miserable.

"Hey, did you hear what happened to that wreck a quarter mile outside the Bulwark?" one of the miners asked in an excited whisper. "Apparently, the reavers were all massacred! In the middle of the night, no less!"

"By who?" his friend asked. "Do you think it was _her_?"

"The Black Swordswoman? Aye. According to the Redoran Guard who were sent out to search the ship for any survivors, the bodies were all riddled with crossbow bolts and torn asunder," the first replied. "No doubt it was her. I tell you, the last thing I want to do is come across her. Nords are bad enough on their own. But one with an enormous sword, a crossbow, and a hatred for the daedra? That's one nightmare I'd really prefer stay in my dreams."

The blonde woman didn't pay the remarks any mind. Instead, she merely tapped the bar again, signaling for another drink.

Geldis let out a sigh and put down the glass he was wiping, walking over to her. Under normal circumstances, he had no problem with making coin. But this felt like the situation with Bralsa Drel all over again. He felt like he was exploiting her, making profit off of her misery.

"Miss, I think you've had enough for one night," he said gently. "Perhaps it would be best if you called it a night and headed home." He'd have Master Saoron escort her back if he could; the woman was in a severe state of intoxication and it would be all too easy for someone to try and take advantage of her in her inebriated state. However, the Breton was currently out assisting the Redoran Guard again and Geldis didn't know when he'd return.

The blonde scoffed, her left hand pushing some of her golden locks out of her face. "I'm fine. Just pour me another drink."

"Miss, I—"

"Just do it." Her right hand trembled ever so slightly, and the blonde winced before clutching it. Pain flashed across her features, and Geldis could make out the bandages that resided underneath her white shirt. She was obviously suffering from some kind of injury or ailment. The dunmer would've loved to ask her what it was, but in the year she had been a resident of Raven Rock he had long since found out that she was a woman who did not reveal much. All he ever got out of her was her name.

Alana Ehler. She was striking to look at, particularly for a Nord, with fair hair that reached the middle of her back and unusual golden eyes. Her simple clothes hid a powerful figure; she could swing a pickaxe for much longer than anyone else who worked the ebony mine and chopped wood without ever seeming to get tired. A simple amulet of Dibella was worn around her neck, making it obvious that she worshipped the goddess of beauty.

But apart from that, Geldis knew very little about her, apart from her first visit to the island. He had no idea why she always looked so miserable, or why she even came to Solstheim. How could a woman who was once a powerful warrior be reduced to this? She nearly got into a fight with Second Councilor Arano when she arrived here permanently, but luckily Captain Veleth was able to break up the confrontation before it got ugly.

Geldis never forgot the first time she came to the settlement to talk with Master Saoron in private about something, over a year ago. Even then she didn't talk much, but it was clear from the way she carried herself that she had seen her fair share of hardship and suffering. Her eyes showed everything; the eyes were the windows to the soul as Elder Othereloth so often put it, and one look was all he needed to see that her soul was one that was filled with sadness.

Geldis let out a defeated sigh and poured her another drink, sliding it over to her across the polished wooden top of the bar. Alana took it and downed its contents quickly, and without another word she pulled a hefty bag of gold out of her pockets and left on the bar.

She was clearly intoxicated; the poor girl was stumbling all over the place and leaning against the walls of the cornerclub to prevent herself from toppling over and hitting her head on the steps. How she made it up without falling was a miracle.

The dunmer innkeeper could only shake his head. Part of him told him he should be grateful for her business; she was keeping the cornerclub afloat with the amount she drank. But the other part of him couldn't bear to see this. He appreciated good business, not the kind that was morally dirty and had equally tangled webs attached to it.

With her gone, he turned his attention to the patrons he had left. The two were still eagerly talking about the mysterious hunter known only as the Black Swordswoman. From a lone survivor of a dremora attack, the Black Swordswoman was a Nord woman with a massive silver zweihander sword that seemed to be made up of two separate blades, one smaller than the other.

She was dressed entirely in black clothes with a hood over her head, and she fought the dremora with all the ferocity of a starved saber cat. She was unusually vicious in combat, using her two swords to cut through the tough daedric armor. According to the survivor of the attack, she didn't even pay him any mind once she was done. She just fused her swords together and walked off without a word.

In a small settlement like Raven Rock, word began to travel fast about this mysterious new daedra hunter. Within a few months, several other reports of coming across brutally massacred daedra throughout all of Solstheim became the newest gossip in town. Who was this demon killer? Where did she come from?

Who was next on her list?

Those who worshipped the Tribunal, the daedric princes of Mephala, Boethiah, and Azura, grew more and more fearful by the day. It was no secret that the daedra hunter was on the island, living in their very midst. Yet it was if she was a phantom of their imagination; no one could find her.

"Hey, that blonde who was just in here ought to know something about it, right? Maybe we should pay her a visit," the miner suggested. His lip curled up into a sinister sneer, and he stroked his long knotted beard. "Not like anyone will complain if she goes missing."

"And risk bringing down a demon killer on our heads? No thanks." His companion shook his head frantically, signaling for Geldis to pour them some drinks after a long day's work in the ebony mines. "I prefer keeping my head on my damn shoulders, thank you very much. Besides, what the bloody hell would she know about the Black Swordswoman? She doesn't ever leave town."

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it is for the better. We don't want someone so dangerous looking for us." He sighed and took his flagon of sujamma, sipping it. "Bloody hell, Geldis. Did you change your recipe again? This is absolutely amazing."

"I did." Geldis nodded and smirked quietly to himself. He had planted a little nightshade into their drinks. Not enough to be fatal, but enough for the two to be subdued for the better part of the evening. Once they fell unconscious, the innkeeper would have Veleth take them to the Bulwark for public indecency. Such rude and callous behavior was disgraceful, especially towards someone who was so damned miserable. What threat could she possibly pose now? The damn girl didn't even carry a weapon on her, as far as he could tell.

The dunmer didn't even have enough time to begin preparing a proper batch of his legendary sujamma before both of his remaining patrons fell face first into the table where they sat. He chuckled to himself and watched as they slumped to the ground unconscious, having fallen out of their chairs. "And that, my friends, is why you don't act like complete idiots."

He walked up towards one of the Redoran Guard who was posted inside the cornerclub as security. "Excuse me, could you find Captain Veleth? I happen to have two rambunctious individuals who need to spend some time in the Bulwark for their…incredibly inappropriate behavior in my club."

"As you wish, Geldis." The guard nodded and promptly left. It was hard to tell what his fellow dunmer was thinking, being encased head to toe in the thick and powerful bonemold armor. But Geldis was positive that he was probably thinking of how irritating it was to be a damned errand boy when he had trained for most of his life to be an elite soldier. Sadly, the only action any of the elite soldiers had in the past year or so was fighting off the cursed beings known as ash spawn.

Geldis headed down to his club and plucked a broom off the wall, sweeping up a small pile of dirt from the floor into a pile. He preferred keeping the cornerclub as tidy as possible, in case either First Councilor Morvayn or Second Councilor Arano stopped by to pay him a visit and have a taste of his sujamma.

He didn't have to wait very long before Captain Veleth came down into the club. The old dunmer strode in with his usual confident swagger, his elven battleaxe firmly secured on his back. "Ah, Geldis. I heard you had some rather rambunctious individuals in your club that required a much needed escort to the Bulwark."

"Indeed." Geldis nodded, pointing over to the two unconscious dunmer on the floor. "There they are. I have to ask you, have you heard any news regarding the Black Swordswoman?"

"Not at all, apart from rumors." Veleth shook his head, frowning. "A Nordic daedra killer with a large sword hasn't been found anywhere within Raven Rock's jurisdiction. If, and only if, should she come here with ill intentions will I have my men react accordingly. Otherwise, I say we should be thanking her; she's made our job of hunting down foul necromancers and dremora easier."

"True. Having such a skilled warrior amongst us would have a lot of benefits," Geldis acknowledged, helping the captain carry the two unconscious drunks out of his cornerclub. He had one man draped over his shoulder and Veleth carried the other, and outside waiting for them were two Redoran soldiers. "Here you are. Make sure you let them know what caused their arrest, whenever they wake up."

He handed his baggage over to the guards and marched back down into the cornerclub to finish making his next brew. The dunmer sprinkled in a few of the native ingredients he picked up from Milore earlier in the week in the brewing vat and gave it a stir, and he heard the clanking of heavy steel boots. He knew those footsteps anywhere and didn't even need to look up to know who it was. "Ah, there you are, Master Saoron. Another rough day assisting the Redoran Guard?"

"I'll say. Damn things are getting bolder and bolder by the day." The tall Breton shook his head and took a seat at the bar, his glass sword dangling from the belt on his armor. He brushed his fingers over a pair of healing cuts on his left arm and glanced at the pile of glasses on the bar, sighing. "I see Alana was here earlier. I must have just missed her, I take it?"

"Aye." Geldis nodded and poured the brunet man his regular, a pint of ale with just the right amount of foam. "I've seen all kinds of drunks in my day, but I don't think I've ever seen a depressed drunk as bad as her. Not even Bralsa was this bad."

"I'll try and talk to her in the morning," Saoron replied, downing a mouthful of his drink. "But I doubt it'll amount to much. I've seen her in this state of mind before; it takes a lot for her to pull herself out of it and not give in to the devil on her shoulder telling her to end it." His amber eyes were somber, and he wiped a bit of ale from his lips with the back of his hand.

"Did you hear any new rumors while you were out?" Geldis asked. "About the Black Swordswoman. Captain Veleth hasn't heard anything apart from the usual rubbish. Bloody superstitious folk around here, I tell you."

"Not a word." Saoron shook his head, taking his steel gauntlets off and running a hand through his brown locks. "Whoever she is, she's good, though. It takes a lot of strength to use a zweihander, but to use one of the damn things one handed? Even I would think twice before engaging in a swordfight with her."

Geldis chuckled at that. Saoron was one of the finest swordsmen his old eyes had the pleasure of watching. He loved absorbing damage with his shield and timing his attacks to counter his enemy. Very simple, but very effective. That's who he was. Not flashy, but he got the damn job done and efficiently. The Redoran Guard couldn't stop praising him for keeping a cool and collected head whenever they fought off the ash spawn attacking the Bulwark. He may have not been a mer, but he was just as welcomed in the community as the Severin family.

"I don't know. I think you might be able to keep up with her for at least a little bit, considering you have an eye for strategy," the dunmer replied. He felt a little more at ease knowing that Saoron was going to hopefully try and talk to Alana. The girl needed it, more than anything. She needed that person who she could turn to for when things were their roughest.

She needed that shoulder to cry on, for her sake more than anyone else's.

"Saoron, keep an eye on her. Please," Geldis said quietly. "I've seen people in her spot before, and it all ended the same way. They all took their lives, unable to live with the pain anymore. Make sure that does not happen to her."

He didn't know what the girl had suffered before she came to Solstheim. But she had to see that she still had at least two people looking out for her. Geldis could see a good person buried underneath the pain, but she had to dig through it.

He just hoped neither him nor Saoron were too late.

* * *

Alana fumbled with the key to her house, her vision hazy from being impaired. How long had she been in there drinking? Minutes? Hours?

All she was able to think of was how much the void in her heart ached and the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. _'Serana…why?'_

'_Why you, too?' _Her eyes watered and a few tears dripped out of her golden eyes. One year. One long, agonizing year since she left Astrid and Serana was killed by Mephala's spider daedra.

She was lost without Serana. The woman had stood by her despite of the sins she had committed and loved her regardless. And yet, fate's cruel hands tore her away from her, leaving Alana a shattered shell of a person.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. The day Serana died. She remembered how much she cried, unable to come to terms with the fact that the one she loved and trusted was gone.

Alana entered her home and locked the door behind her, descending into the armory to change. She stripped her white shirt off and fitted on a dark blue vest with a black sleeve attached to cover the bandage on her right arm.

The blonde picked up her new zweihander, Clockwork, and gave it a few test swings. The deadly sword was still sharp as the day she found it in the dwemer ruins of Kagrumez after receiving a tip from Saoron about a cult of daedra worshippers hiding in its cold metal depths. His information wasn't wrong; a cult dedicated to the daedric prince of destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, was residing within. However, not even Saoron knew of the greater power that hid within its depths.

At the very bottom on the ruins, hidden amongst oily machinery and hazardous traps, was the unique silver zweihander sword. The blade was seemingly coated in the rare metal of aetherium, making it a little lighter than Requiem despite being about the same size. Unlike any other weapon, it was made up of two separate swords, one being a smaller longsword and the other a slightly lighter broadsword. Combining the two created one of the strangest and most powerful weapons Alana ever wielded.

Human, daedra, dwemer automatons; it didn't matter. Simply nothing was impenetrable if she used it.

However, there was only one usage she would ever put the weapon through. Killing the daedra and their foul worshippers wherever they hid.

They ruined her life and stole away her friends, her love ones. She'd make them pay. She'd make them _all_ pay for what they did.

Alana winced as a jolt of pain shot through her cursed arm, and she clutched it. _'Even a year later…I still haven't found a cure. Maybe there isn't.'_

'_Why should I bother trying to make the daedra feel my pain? It won't bring Serana back. Nor will it make amends for what I've done. I'm a monster. A killer. Someone like me doesn't deserve to be happy. Ever.'_

The blonde fitted a dark brown holster over her body and let her sword rest in it before she picked up her crossbow. She loaded one of the deadly bolts into the weapon and took aim at one of the straw targets she set up. It was riddled with holes from her making sure her gear was still in working order, and she squeezed the trigger. With a loud snap, the bolt soared towards the target and sank into the small bull's eye in the center with a satisfying thunk.

Still in working order.

She lowered the projectile weapon and let it dangle from her belt. She was a hunter, and a hunter always had to make sure their equipment was in working order before setting out and finding it malfunction when they needed it.

She fitted on a pair of dark boots and tied her cloak around her body. The hood came up over her head to cover her face, and she walked over to a small unassuming trap door hidden behind a weapons rack. The blonde opened it and jumped down into the tunnels that lay beneath Raven Rock's ashy surface.

The tunnels had been abandoned decades ago, having been used by the previous owners to smuggle illegal contraband in and out of the town. Finding the tunnels had been completely by chance; she was moving Requiem to its resting place when she discovered the trap door.

After a few days of exploring every inch of its depths, she knew the secret passageway better than she did the rest of Raven Rock. Alana rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her hazy vision. Drinking as much as she did definitely took a toll on her physically, immortal vampire or not.

The tunnel eventually opened up into a massive cavern filled with glowing mushrooms and a herd of netch. The jellyfish-like creatures were gentle giants unless provoked, their long tentacles capable of doing channeling the paralytic jelly hidden in their soft meat.

She paid them no mind. She had no desire to strike her sword against them. They were kind creatures and didn't bring harm to anyone, unlike her.

She was a killer, a harbinger of darkness. A monster that stalked in the night.

Alana let a tear snake from her eye and down her pale cheek. She had been such a damn fool, thinking that she could ever atone for the things she had done. _'Serana…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You really would've been better off without me being in your life, wouldn't you?'_

'_I should just fade away from the world. All I do is bring harm to those I care about. And it's not like anyone would miss me.' _

Some hero of Skyrim she was. Heroes were supposed to protect the people and the land they dwelled on, not exploit them for their own purposes and kill for the sake of it. She had the sheer audacity, the gall, to think she could atone for _that_?

The blonde let her head sink, her boots gently scuffing the ashy ground. She deserved every bit of her pain. She allowed herself to fall for the lies woven by the silky tongues of the daedra. Everything that happened to her was punishment from the gods, sending their fury through Aetherius and striking her with the force stronger than the mightiest waves of the Sea of Ghosts.

Mephala got exactly what she wanted. She broke Alana, turning the once-formidable warrior into a broken woman who wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. She felt it would be for the best if she did; it would only be a matter of time before the Webspinner went after Saoron. _'Why? Why am I continuing to fight? I don't have anything left fighting for.'_

She headed further within until she started to feel wind blowing from the exit further ahead. Alana stumbled and leaned against the rough rocky walls, still feeling the effects of her drinking. She paused and tried to steady herself, her cursed arm shaking ever so slightly. _'Look at me. I was supposed to be the hero of my homeland, and what did I do with my gifts? I used them to kill and bring harm.'_

'_I should just die. I'd be doing the world a favor.'_

When she exited the tunnels, Saoron was waiting for her as usual; the tall brunet was clad in his steel armor with a glass sword dangling from his belt, and he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Are you feeling okay?"

Alana flinched away from his touch, jerking herself away. She could spot a bit of hurt flash in his amber eyes, but said nothing. She didn't deserve his sympathy in the slightest.

Saoron sighed and lowered his hand, swallowing a lump in his throat painfully. "Crescius Caerellius is in the mine again. Says he's got some evidence of a conspiracy by the East Empire Company. I managed to persuade him to give me some key he's got that leads to the lower sections of Raven Rock mine. Do you want to look into it?"

Alana looked at him and gave him a quiet nod of response. Saoron handed her the key, and his hand lingered on hers for a few seconds. His fingers brushed against the thick cloth bandage that covered her arm from the elbow down, and their eyes met. One pair was somber and amber, the other golden and filled with tears.

"Saoron…I'm sorry." Alana didn't bother holding them in anymore, and she allowed herself to cry into his broad chest. Saoron stiffened slightly, but he held her close. He didn't dare pull away.

"Don't be. You didn't ask for this," Saoron murmured, running a hand through her soft hair. "Just…just don't throw your life away. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?" Alana asked, choking back a sob. "I'd be doing you a favor. I'm not worth anything to you."

"That's not true, and you know it." Saoron held onto her tighter, taking a deep breath. "Alana…you mean more to me than you think. Please, don't do this to yourself. Now come on; we have a job for the Black Swordswoman."

Alana followed him, and despite his words, she couldn't help but feel otherwise. She wasn't worth anything to him. She could easily be replaced.

She was just a damn burden on him.

_**A/N: And we're done. This chapter marks the beginning of the Black Swordswoman arc, which will cover the first part of the story. The Dragonborn questline won't be for awhile. Hopefully I can be consistent with these updates, but you never know. **_

_**C. Strife #5371**_


	2. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 2

_**A/N: Hello, and welcome to chapter two. With this fic now relatively thought out (SotH wasn't really planned, whoops. I kinda just went with the flow), I can safely assume this one will be on schedule. I think. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 2***

The dusty streets of Raven Rock were eerily quiet as Alana and Saoron made their way towards the ebony mine. All she could hear were the sound of the waves lapping at the shore, the gentle creaking of the Northern Maiden, the ship currently docked at the port, and the soft crunching of their boots in the ash.

They were sticking to the shadows that the tall cliffs surrounding the dunmer settlement helped provide; it was easier for the two of them to move under the cover of night. Alana's inhuman eyesight enabled her to see perfectly even in the blackest of nights and avoid the spiny thorns dotting the red leaves of the scathecraw that grew from the ashy soil, and the two quietly crossed town without alerting the presence of the Redoran Guards on the night shift.

Her golden gaze was fixated on the ground below, and she didn't know why she was bothering with any of it. What purpose did she have? Serana was dead, probably being tortured in the Spiral Skein by Mephala. People she thought were her friends ended up betraying her, one by one.

Except Brynjolf; he had tried to free her from her fate of being nothing more than a puppet connected by Mephala's sticky webs. She regretted not letting him kill her. _'Why should I go with this? I haven't done any good since discovering my powers. I've murdered, spilled the blood of countless people, and even brought misery to the people I care about.' _

'_Someone like me doesn't deserve to live, let alone know happiness. The whole world would reap benefits of my nonexistence.' _

Saoron carefully pushed open the door to the ebony mine, making sure that no one was watching. The mine had been abandoned for awhile now, ever since the East Empire Company closed it down after the source of ebony dried up. Alana didn't really care; swinging a pickaxe in its abandoned depths gave her something to do during the day apart from drink herself to death.

Alana stumbled upon entering. She was still suffering from the affects of her earlier drinking, and she was thankful that Saoron was able to steady her; the tall brunet had place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Easy there," he murmured. "It's easy for you to take a nasty spill if you're not careful." He wasn't kidding; the first time she entered, she nearly fell down the narrow staircase that led from the top of the mine down to the second landing. She was lucky to have not plunged to her death.

Alana let out a miserable scoff. Oh how she would've loved if she did. Perhaps then she wouldn't have to suffer with her pain anymore. _'Why? Why do I continue on, pretending that I can actually help when all I do is kill?'_

'_Why don't I just die already? Not like anyone would complain.' _

Saoron locked the mine behind them and the two carefully began to descend into the ebony mine. It was thoroughly built, each level descending deep into the rock instead out extending out like the mines in her homeland of Skyrim.

With her in tow, Saoron put his hand up at the faint click of pinchers up ahead. "Careful. Frostbite spider. Small one, by the sound of it." He plucked a torch off the wall and rounded the corner, where the large arachnid was waiting for them.

It spat out a glob of poison, and the Breton merely raised his arm to cast a ward spell. It easily deflected the attack and he threw the torch at it. It struck the creature in the middle of its eyes. The frostbite spider let out a pained shriek that chilled Alana's bones, and the flames began to spread over its exoskeleton. They hungrily devoured the spider, and it continued to shriek in agony as it was burned alive.

Its charred body eventually stopped moving, though the smell of cooked meat lingered in the air. Alana's stomach churned and she looked away to prevent herself from getting sick. If she looked at those lifeless black eyes and horrible burns for too long, she was sure she would vomit.

Saoron grimaced at the scene of death he caused. "Ugh. That smell is utterly revolting." Another set of clicks sounded further ahead, and he groaned in annoyance. "And we have more of the bastards. Looks like a pack of them moved in recently."

Alana reached for her crossbow, sliding a bolt into the weapon. She preferred fighting the creatures from a distance if she could help it; she had the scar on her body to prove that their pinchers were easily capable of piercing tough steel armor and flesh.

She spotted a single spiny leg sticking out from its cover and she hissed. She didn't have a great shot at it, and the bastard wasn't about to come out fully to challenge them. Frostbite spiders were ambush predators at heart, hiding in the shadows before using the element of surprise to take down their prey.

Saoron reached for his own sword, but Alana put a hand on his shoulder and drew Clockwork. She flashed him a look that showed she could take care of it, and the brunet nodded with a quiet whisper. "Be careful."

Alana spun the heavy sword in her hands and jumped out to take the frostbite spider by surprise. It jumped back, shocked that its own methods had been used against it, and before it could react Alana's zweihander cut it in half down the middle. The two halves of the dead spider fell limply, blood gushing out from the wounds and pooling on the soft ground. Several red rivers ran down the aetherium coating, dripping down its length and running off the blade.

The blonde slid her sword back into its holster and turned away from the corpse. Thick strands of webs were growing on the wooden platforms that the miners would stand on, and Alana grimaced as she stepped over them to avoid getting tangled in its snare. _'The damn things are like the falmer. No matter how many you kill, there's always more.'_

She was right; there were two more frostbite spiders ahead, deeper in the mine. The air was thick and oily, the waves from the fumes rising up and blurring her already impaired vision even more. _'Dammit. I can barely see a thing.' _

Saoron took the lead, recognizing the issue. "Don't worry. I can help out here." His spare hand glowed with magic, and the Breton focused his power to cast Candlelight. A small glowing orb floated above them, shining brightly and illuminating the mine, its light easily piercing the blurry darkness. They came across the spiders, and two quick slashes were all Saoron needed to put them down.

'_Look at you. You can't see in an oily cavern after a few drinks? Pathetic weakling.' _A powerful jolt of pain shot up her bicep and she winced, clutching it. Her cursed arm thrived on her current mental state, devouring any negative thoughts the way wolves and bears dug into their helpless prey. Her hand trembled, threatening to once again transform into the ugly and grotesque corrupted claw it did a year ago.

Saoron stopped and faced her, looking at her trembling hand. "Let me see it."

"I'm fine," Alana replied through gritted teeth, jerking her hand away. She didn't deserve his sympathy, or anyone's for that matter. Not with the things she had done. She committed countless atrocities and spilled the blood of hundreds for her own selfish desires; she deserved every last bit of her suffering for what she did.

"Alana, let me see it. Now," he said firmly. With a reluctant hiss, Alana pushed up her sleeve to expose the heavy bandages covering her cursed arm for Saoron to inspect it. He was much more gifted with magic than her, being an expert in both restoration and alteration-based magic.

His hands glowed with Healing Hands, and he frowned as he tried to focus his magic into her arm. "Damn. That curse runs deep. Far deeper than anything I can remove. Alana, my treatments can only do so much. Given enough time, it will spread to other parts of your body, possibly corrupting your very soul."

Alana looked away, her gaze heavy with misery. "Why do you care?"

"Because you're the best friend I have."

"Ha. Don't make me laugh. I'm a horrible excuse of a friend and you know it."

"No, you're not." Saoron let his hand fall away from the blackened flesh, his spell numbing the pain for the time being. "You didn't slit my throat in my sleep, and you've never wronged me. Even after everything that happened. You stayed loyal to me as a friend, despite the distance separating us for some time."

"Yeah? And yet I come back into your life and drag you into my mess." Alana felt so defeated, so helpless. "You didn't fall for the lies of four daedric princes. You didn't murder countless innocents. You don't have blood on your hands like I do."

"No, I don't," he admitted with a sigh. "But I know how it is to feel helpless like you, when we were both running out of Cyrodiil trying to escape the Thalmor. I didn't know how I could possibly fight back against those monsters. But I did. I had you, the one friend I knew would stand by me to the end, still with me."

Her heart twisted with heavy guilt, and she lowered her head before they stopped in front of an iron gate with a heavy lock on it. Looking at herself now, it was hard to believe that she was once the vengeful warrior who could make an army quake in their boots with the purest of terror. It seemed so far behind her now. Her, this broken shell, being the same woman who struck back against a daedra? It was almost laughable.

Her father would be disappointed in her if he could see her from Sovngarde.

She could feel a strong wind gushing out like a thick current from behind the door deeper within the mine, and she pulled out the key given to her. Alana could see a few crates stacked neatly next to the door, dust and fungi gathering on the wooden surface. An old rusted pickaxe rested on top along with a strongbox, and part of her made her take a second look at it.

The symbol of the East Empire Company was stamped on the strongbox and she frowned. The lock looked pretty complex, but it wasn't anything she couldn't open given her experience in the Thieves Guild. Alana pulled out a few picks and set to work, gently feeling along the inner mechanism to not break her pick.

'_Dammit. This one is unusually strong.' _Her tongue flickered over her sharpened canines as she worked on the lock. Once she was sure she got it in the right spot, she began to slowly spin the lock until it clicked open.

The small case popped open, and inside it was an unusual amulet with the EEC symbol on it just like the strongbox did. Alana ran a hand over it, and she held it to Saoron. "Know anything about this?"

He took it and ran a finger over it with a thoughtful hum. "Hmm. I remember Fethis saying something about looking for these amulets earlier in the week. Apparently, the East Empire Company would hand these out to workers as a sort of incentive. They're no longer being made, and that makes them both collectable and worth quite a bit of gold. Talk to him in the morning; he'll probably be able to give you some gold for it. But for the love of the Divines, do not spend it all on drink."

Alana could barely even hear him as she pocketed the amulet. If anything, drinking gave her the knowledge that she was slowly but surely killing herself. Not that she cared much; all she was able to feel was the slow burn of the alcohol as it poured down her throat, trying its best to numb the devastating blow Mephala had dealt her.

She hugged her cloak tighter as the wind howled through the tunnels and they descended into the locked section of the mine. _'What could the East Empire Company possibly want to keep hidden? They have plenty of mercenaries who'd leap at a chance to kill off some bandits or draugr.'_

Alana stopped when she saw the familiar layout of a Nordic burial chamber, and her zweihander was at the ready. A few of the draugr were too ancient to pose any real threat, but she caught side of one wearing a rusted ancient helmet with two long horns sticking out from the top. _'Dammit. We have a deathlord to deal with.' _

"Damn," Saoron muttered, his sword in hand. "We're in the middle of a burial chamber. I didn't think there would be one down here. Looks like we're in for a fight." The groaning and creaking of ancient bones filled the chamber, and several pairs of gleaming blue eyes came to life as the draugr rose from their coffins.

"Fine by me." Alana pressed on Clockwork's handle and the second smaller sword was in her left hand. "I'll handle the deathlord." The blonde leapt towards the stronger of the undead, her two swords meeting the tough black ebony of its warhammer. Cold gleaming eyes bored into her, and it let out an irritated rasp in the dragon tongue before opening its mouth to unleash a Shout. **"Fo Krah Diin!"**

A powerful wave of ice spewed from its mouth, making Alana stumble. She recovered quickly, her Nordic and vampire blood giving her a powerful resistance to any kind of ice-based magic. She swung the smaller sword at its hands, the aetherium coating enabling her to easily cut through ancient armor and flesh.

The deathlord roared in anger as its hands were severed at the wrists and its weapon fell to the ground with a loud clatter. It fell to one knee and Alana growled before her heavier sword split its head in two. The deathlord's eyes lost their life as the undead warrior was sent back to Sovngarde, its soul finally at peace.

Alana fused her two swords together to create the single heavy blade again, sighing. Her soul would never get to know the unending song and drink that rang in the Hall of Valor; she was tainted by the daedra. _'Father…I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I allowed myself to fall for their lies. I was weak. I still am.'_

It seemed no matter how hard she fought, she could never win. She tried, so very hard, to not let history constantly repeat itself. And yet it seemed to be in vain; no matter where she went the people she loved and befriended ended up killed because she fell for the treachery of the daedric princes. All because she was too damn weak to see through their lies.

Alana turned to see how Saoron was faring in his battle against the draugr focused on him. The Breton was handling himself well, using his wards to block any magic attacks from the draugr scourge and the restless draugr. His glass sword was covered in the blood of ancient warriors, tiny red streams trickling down the blade. The corpses of two draugr wrights were lying on the ground next to him, and his amber gaze was icy calm as he parried a heavy blow from the scourge's ancient greatsword.

Alana leapt in to help him, her zweihander cutting the first restless draugr down in pieces. She barely had time to remove her sword before the second attacked her. She blocked the blow easily and removed its head from its decaying body.

The scourge's hand glowed purple and it conjured up a frost atronach. The icy giant lumbered towards her, and Alana gave Saoron a look. "This one's mine." She rolled under a powerful swing of its icy arms, the cold eating away at her bones, and leapt into the air. With one heavy swing that used a good amount of her physical strength, she cut the atronach in half from its head down to the groin. It burst into dozens of pieces of ice, and the draugr scourge growled angrily in the dragon tongue.

It opened its mouth to Shout, and Saoron's blade caught it between the eyes. The sharpened malachite easily punctured the undead warrior's brain, and it fell in a messy heap. The brunet pulled his sword out, shaking the blood and brain matter off of it. "No matter how many times you kill them, these things don't seem to get any prettier, do they?"

Alana started to move through the chamber, her boots sinking into the many puddles. Water splashed up her legs, soaking the bottom of her black pants, and she grimaced. The liquid was foul, the water tainted by the stench of the draugr. _'Disgusting.' _

She spotted a pressure plate on partially the floor, covered by smelly moss, and she held her arm out to warn her friend. Saoron looked at her in confusion for a few moments before he followed her gaze, and he nodded. "Got it. We'll watch our step, and this will be a lot smoother."

They carefully stepped around the pressure plate, making sure they didn't activate the spiked trap. Alana could see dried blood on the deadly spikes, meaning that someone who had come down in centuries prior to them had not been as fortunate.

They made their way up the ancient stone steps of the barrow, the only source of light being the glowing orb of Saoron's Candlelight spell. A group of draugr sat on four ancient thrones around the next bend, and one of them rose to challenge the two. It wasn't a particularly powerful one; in its old life it had probably been a lowly bandit or a barely skilled mercenary. One swing of Clockwork was all Alana needed to send it into the Nordic afterlife to join in on the unyielding feasts in Shor's Hall.

Saoron looked around them to make sure they were clear, and he pushed open a heavy metal door that led even deeper in. The door led to a new chamber, the floor being made entirely of a steel grate that rested above a small pond. All along the perimeter of the ancient barrow were thrones with draugr firmly seated on them, and the blonde curled her lip in irritation as the draugr rose from their sitting positions. _'These damn things might even be worse than the spiders. No matter what kind of tomb you're in, these things are sure to be in it.'_

'_I think I prefer dealing with the damn reavers. At least they tend to panic and scatter when they realize that the odds are against them. Not that it does them any good.' _Alana scoffed at the thought of the pirates that liked to call Solstheim's shores their home. They were no different from the regular bandits that plagued her homeland, apart from them all being dark elves and more skilled with magic than swords.

However, whereas the bandits of Skyrim were stubborn and refused to back down regardless if they were losing or not, the reavers were smart enough to try and flee when they recognized a fight wasn't going their way. Even if they tried to run, they received no mercy; running only meant it was easier for the daedra hunter to put a crossbow bolt in their backs.

Some may call the act of killing an opponent with their back turned cowardly. However, Alana knew perfectly well that the bastards would regroup and once again attack helpless civilians. Killing them would guarantee the safety of the people.

Alana readied her crossbow and aimed at the draugr that rose from their cold seats. She squeezed the trigger, and the steel bolt struck the first undead warrior in the chest. Its body jerked from the impact, and Saoron pushed the blonde out of the way. "Watch out!"

She fell onto her side, narrowly missing the heavy ebony battleaxe in the hands of a draugr deathlord. It let out a raspy laugh and Shouted at the brunet. **"Fus Ro Dah!"** There was a loud crash, and Saoron barely got his ward up in time to negate the attack. Part of it got through the ward, and he fell to one knee with a grimace.

Alana recovered first, and one powerful swing of her zweihander was enough to split the draugr in half. The deathlord fell in pieces, its battleaxe falling to the ground with a loud clatter. Saoron picked himself back up with a grimace. The deadly ebony had cut through his heavy steel armor easily, and blood was trickling from a gash on his side.

"Don't worry about me; I'll live," he said reassuringly, twirling his sword in his hand. The wound wasn't very deep, and the Breton leapt back into the fray. His sword met the ancient steel of a draugr's war axe and he pushed it back before delivering a quick slash to the chest.

Alana spun around to let the heavy downward strike of an ancient battleaxe be absorbed by Clockwork's wide blade. She winced as the force of the hit jolted the muscles in her arm, and she nearly dropped her sword from the pain that surged up her afflicted limb. She pushed the draugr back and delivered a powerful slash onto its axe's handle, shattering it. The undead warrior fell onto its back and Saoron finished it off by impaling the monster in the chest.

Alana paused to clutch her cursed arm with a wince, grimacing. _'I had hoped I wouldn't have to rely on this strength. Dammit.' _The blonde's hand came away from the thick bandages, and she rubbed the soreness away before sliding her sword back into its holster.

"We're all clear," Saoron murmured next to her, sheathing his own blade. "Come on; let's see what we can find."

Alana followed him out of the chamber past another set of iron doors, and the tunnel became easier to see in as they progressed. She spotted an coffin filled with some sort of strange ice, and she approached it. _'What is this? Ice?' _

It seemed to hum with magical properties, and she tapped her hand against the rough surface. It was hard, unusually hard. This was no normal ice. This was something much different. "Saoron, what is this? Is it some kind of ore?"

The brunet came over to inspect it and he ran a finger down its edges. "Hmm…I've heard stories about this from Glover. I'm pretty sure this is a really rare ore called stalhrim, enchanted ice as hard as rock and cold as death. No normal pickaxe will break this. We'd need an ancient Nordic pickaxe to crack it."

"Is it hard to use for crafting?"

"Oh yes. Glover came across a few chunks of it about four years ago or so, and said working it is very similar to working ebony. You need a lot of skill and a lot of patience."

Alana's hand fell away from the stalhrim deposit. Her ability as a blacksmith had severely fallen in the past year; her hands were far too shaky and her mind was never able to focus. Not without bringing up painful memories of how she would forge weapons for Serana.

She felt the familiar sting in the corners of her eyes and she lowered her head. By the gods, not having Serana with her hurt more than any wound she had suffered. Alana would gladly suffer her limbs being shattered or being impaled in the chest if it meant Serana could come back to her.

But she was gone now, her soul suffering the fate of being tortured by Mephala in the Spiral Skein. _'I wasn't able to protect the person I loved. She didn't deserve this. I allowed myself to give in to my rage and try and strike back at Mephala, and Serana died because of it.' _

She knew she had hurt Astrid emotionally by leaving the way she did. But she still believed it was honestly for the best, for as long as Alana was around her, Astrid was also in danger of being killed by Mephala. _'Astrid, I'm sorry. I just hope you've moved on from me. I'm not worth it.'_

As strange as it may have sounded, she _wanted_ Astrid to hate her for it. She would deserve it for the atrocities she committed, wouldn't she? Her very soul was tainted with sin. The stain would never wash out.

Alana wiped her eyes and continued ahead of Saoron, hiding her sobs behind coughs. The air was thick and musty, the tomb being sealed for who knows how long. The sheer stench of rotting flesh from the dead draugr that lined the corridors was enough to make her lip curl, and she was glad when the hallway led to another small chamber.

The bottom was mostly flooded from a small waterfall, save for a platform on the right that was patrolled by another draugr deathlord. It clanked about noisily in its armor, growling in their direction. Up on a bridge, a second deathlord with an ebony bow in its hands shuffled back and forth.

This was not going to be an easy fight for them. The arrows from the undead archer would easily pierce even Saoron's armor, and combined with its Shouts, it could possibly kill them both. They might be a slow and cumbersome enemy, but draugr deathlords were capable of killing even experienced tomb raiders if they weren't careful.

The archer needed to be dealt with first. It posed the biggest threat, and fortunately for them it was on the other side of the chamber. It didn't know they were there.

Alana reached for her crossbow, one of the deadly bolts already in her hand, and she slid it in before taking aim. She squeezed the trigger, and the bolt found its target. The deathlord growled in surprise and dropped its bow, its skeletal hands clawing at the crossbow bolt stuck in the side of its head.

Alana didn't let up; another pair of bolts hit their mark, and the deathlord fell off its perch and into the water with a loud splash. The second draugr turned and growled in the dragon tongue, its cold eyes glowing with malice as it swung its axe at the blonde.

The ancient steel met the refined malachite of Saoron's sword and the Breton pushed it back with a pair of quick slashes across its torso. The sharp blade cut through the dusty armor like butter and the deathlord stumbled. It fell to one knee with an irritated rasp, and it looked up to find Saoron's sword lopping its head clean off.

The undead warrior finally joined the afterlife and Saoron sheathed his sword. "We're clear." Alana followed him up across the steps and spotted a heavy iron gate that was no doubt blocking the way they needed to go. Nordic burial tombs were notorious for making one look around to spot hidden levers and chains to progress further into them.

Saoron frowned, tapping the ancient gate with his hand. "This isn't going to move. Check around; there has to be a chain somewhere around to open it."

Alana nodded and made her way across the bridge that led to another platform. Sure enough, a small handle was hidden on a rusty iron pedestal, and she pulled it. She was rewarded by the sound of ancient pulleys and chains squeaking as the gate opened up, and she made her back over to her friend.

Saoron looked at the inscriptions on the walls of the tomb as they progressed, frowning. "Hmm. These carvings…they seem to suggest some kind of clan once lived here. Look; they're obviously worshipping some kind of priest or king. Perhaps even both."

Alana looked at the carvings, and her blood started to pump. The carvings were eerily similar to the ones she found in Volskygge, a Nordic burial chamber to the west of Solitude in the coastal mountains. The summit of the ruin was guarded by a very powerful dragon priest, and it looked as though these ruins possibly were guarded by one, too.

"A dragon priest," she murmured, touching it. "But which one? I didn't know of any dragon priests on the island."

"Me neither." Saoron shook his head, brow furrowing in concern. "I'll have to ask Councilor Morvayn if I could borrow a few books to check if anymore of these ruins are located on Solstheim."

Alana's hand fell away from the carving, and they could feel a cold rush of air coming in from one of the tunnels. She shivered in spite of her natural resistances to the cold and they spotted the tunnel the miners had uncovered all of those decades ago. It was narrow, and Saoron muttered irritably as he was forced to cast another Candlelight spell.

The glowing orb provided enough light, and they stopped at the edge of a five foot drop into a giant chamber.

"Incredible." Saoron let out a low whistle, looking around as they carefully made their way down. "To think that a mine held this as a secret for thousands of years…it's remarkable. Most people would never get a chance to see something like this."

Alana spotted the rotting bodies of a few dead draugr, and the skeleton of an unfortunate explorer was next to them. "Wherever we are, we're not the first ones to discover this place."

"No, we're not." Saoron crouched down next to another skeleton, picking up an old journal and wiping dust off of its cover. "In fact…I think we found what we were looking for."

He looked through its old pages, the paper turning yellow from the countless years of sitting in a musty old ruin. "We did. This is the journal of Gratian Caerellius, and these are his remains. With this, we have all the proof we need to prove the East Empire Company was lying about his death."

Alana was more focused on the unusual red greatsword that lied next to Gratian's remains. "What is that?"

"Let me check." Saoron scrolled through the pages of the journal, and he let out a thoughtful hum. "Seems as though this ruin was once home to the Bloodskal clan, and this weapon is their masterpiece, so to speak. According to Gratian's last entries in his journal, swinging this sword in a certain way will get it to release a mystical ribbon of energy."

He hefted the strange red sword up with a grunt and approached a massive stone door that looked impossible to penetrate, and he pointed at the red lines in several spots of it. "Look; I bet if we hit those with the sword, it'll open."

He swung the blade at a small section of the door, and a red burst of energy came from the sword. It struck the glowing ribbon, and the piece it hit sank back and rotated up.

"Got it." He grinned. "Keep an eye out for any draugr. I'll have this open in no time."

Alana was thankful she had him with her down here as she took up a guard position. Saoron was always fascinated by ancient ruins and artifacts, developing a knack for solving riddles. His home had quite the collection of tomes on various subjects most people wouldn't bother themselves with, such as the Dragon War in the beginning of time and the story of Ysgramor's Companions.

As Saoron worked on opening the door, Alana began to feel more and more uneasy. She was able to sense a source of very powerful magic somewhere within, and she didn't like it. It was either a dragon priest like she believed or something even worse, like a daedra.

If it was a daedra, her sword would cut it down without any kind of mercy. Her hand trembled, and she winced as it throbbed painfully under her sleeve. _'Dammit. Come on, hold it together.' _

The chamber shook, bits of dust falling from the ceiling, and the blonde turned to see that Saoron had opened it. He was leaning against the red greatsword for support, panting heavily. Sweat dripped down his muscular frame, and he gave her a weary thumbs up. "Got it. Just give me a moment to catch my breath."

Alana searched around her pockets for a stamina potion, and she unscrewed the cap off and handed it to him. "Here. This'll help."

"Thanks." He downed its contents in a hurry and he flexed his shoulders as the potion gave him his stamina back. "That took a lot more effort than I thought. I'm no greatsword user, but damn. I didn't think it would wear me out that much."

Alana felt along the handle of her own zweihander as they started to proceed through the passageway, easily avoiding the axe traps. They were simple to avoid if one paid attention, and they made it across without a single nick on them.

They were in the final chamber now, and the overpowering magical aura in the room was enough to choke on.

"Be careful. Something else is at work here," Saoron warned with a whisper. His sword was in hand, and Alana drew her own heavy blade.

The magical aura pulsed and throbbed in her arm, and it was painful enough to make her fall to her knees. "Dammit!" The pain was white hot, like she was being burned, and her eyes watered.

"Alana!" Saoron turned to help her, only to stop when a body rose from the waters and let out a deathly shriek. "Dammit! We have a dragon priest!"

The dragon priest cast both Lightning Cloak and Ebonyflesh, and it roared in the dragon tongue at her as it began to cast a ward to deflect Saoron's own magical attacks. The bolts of lightning he fired from the palms of his hands did nothing to deter it; instead, it seemed focused on Alana.

Its hand glowed with powerful magic, and it cast a Lightning Storm spell at her. Alana rolled to the side to avoid the deadly shockwave, still clutching her arm. In her current state, she was in no condition to fight a dragon priest, especially one as powerful as this one.

Alana pressed on the handle of her sword, the second blade appearing in her weaker hand. She'd have to fight using Clockwork's heavier blade in her left hand instead of her dominant. _'Fine by me. I've fought with much worse before.' _

She rose to her feet, and with her sword in hand, she went after their enemy with a growl.

Her first two swings went wide, completely missing the elusive priest. It danced around her strikes with remarkable speed despite its undeath, and the blonde hissed in irritation. "Damn you!"

The dragon priest growled in its chilling voice and threw another powerful bolt of lightning at her. Saoron was able to push her out of the way and block it with a ward, though the magical barrier shattered like a pane of glass. The Breton grimaced as the force sent him onto his back, and he wiped the corner of his mouth. "Dammit. This one is powerful. My magicka reserves are empty from that blast."

He reached for the Bloodskal Blade, and Alana's own sword was back together. "This one's mine."

She swung her sword and caught the dragon priest in the chest. "You're finished." The second heavy swing cut across its lower body, and the third split the undead monstrosity in half.

Alana rested her sword on the ground, leaning on it and holding her arm. "Dammit." Using that burst of her raw physical power took more out of her than she expected, and she felt the soreness creep up on her like a poison.

Alana began to hear familiar ancient Nordic whispers, and she looked on the far edge of the chamber. On the other side was an ancient wall with carvings on it, and she approached it. _'A Word of Power? But which one?' _

"Alana?" Saoron asked. "What are you…?"

He stopped when he saw the wall on the other side, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll go with you." They swam across the chamber, the water warm and weighing them down. They hauled themselves out, and she wrung out part of her dark vest.

'_This is going to take awhile to dry out. Hopefully I can let these dry without causing much of a scene when we get back,' _she thought. Alana touched the smooth surface of the wall, feeling a rush of power course through her body.

**Mul.** The ancient word spoke in her mind as clear as day, and she felt the surge of power in her veins. Whatever this Word of Power meant, it gave her remarkable strength; power coursed through her limbs, banishing any hint of exhaustion, and Alana was able to stand up straighter.

"Come on, the sooner we get out of here, the better," she said. That dragon priest, whoever it was, was one deadly enemy. They were lucky to look no worse for wear after fighting it.

"Agreed." Saoron nodded, and they set off towards what looked to be the way out. However, Alana paused. She could sense a dark magical presence, not belonging to the dead dragon priest. Her sword was in hand, and she felt her cursed arm shake.

Something wasn't right.

"Do you…do you feel tha?" she whispered.

"Yeah." Saoron frowned, looking at an old black book on a pedestal. "Hmm. It seems to be coming from that."

They approached the book, and Alana shivered as they neared it. The book seemed…wrong. The thing radiated unearthly power, and yet it didn't seem to be really there. It was like they were in a plane of Oblivion.

Her cursed arm throbbed harder and harder, and Alana stayed away from the book. Something told her to not get within five feet of the damn thing if she could help it.

Saoron approached it, looking at the sickly green insignia on the cover. "Hmmm…whatever this is, it's obviously a powerful magical artifact. What it contains is something I'm not sure of."

"Is it…is it daedric in origin?" Alana asked.

"Possibly. But I'd suggest we get a professional opinion on this first. There's only one I can think of who is capable of telling us about this. I believe there is a Telvanni wizard to the east of Raven Rock. Whatever this book is, we need to learn more about it before we do anything with it."

He picked it up and tossed it into an empty knapsack, slinging it over his shoulder. "Come on. We're nearly done."

Alana waited for him to get a few paces ahead of her before following him. Her cursed arm was shaking, and she knew that book was definitely daedric. It had to be in order to make her arm feel the way it did. The sense of dread was heavy and thick, and she wanted to get out as soon as possible.

Alana looked back at the barrow, and she didn't notice the ethereal mass of tentacles watching her with an amused smirk on its face.

"_Finally…the Black Swordswoman herself has found one of my tomes of knowledge…"_

_**A/N: And that's it for chapter 2! Did you like it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! See you soon!**_

_**C. Strife #5371**_


	3. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 3

_**A/N: Well, Chapter 3. I can definitely tell you we will see more different types of daedra (more demonic ones) in this arc. Have to make subtle changes, right? **_

_**This chapter gives even me the creeps rereading it. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 3***

Alana was the first one out of the barrow, not stopping to look back at Saoron. The knapsack he carried contained the unusual black book they found, and the overpowering sensation of dread was overpowering; it swirled around and choked her senses, making it hard for her to breathe let alone think. She could taste it; it was sickening, like a poison.

'_What the hell is that book? It can't be something made by humans or elves. It has to be daedric. It just has to be.' _The blonde felt her arm shake and she brushed her fingers against the thin fabric of the black sleeve covering it. _'Dammit. I've lost a bit more of my strength than I thought. That dragon priest, whoever he was, put up a good fight against us. Too good of one.'_

She knew all too well that her strength had waned in the past year. Her usual fiery will in battle was mostly sapped, leaving her little more than an empty shell. When Serana was around, Alana would have to either be killed or knocked out before she'd give up in a fight, using unstoppable willpower to fight through even the worst of injuries.

Now, she wasn't even sure what kept her going. Was it Saoron's encouragement? Or was it her own twisted logic of wanting Astrid to be furious with her? Alana simply didn't know. _'Why am I fighting? I don't exactly have much to live for, do I? I left Astrid, and it's only a matter of time before Mephala goes after Saoron. I'd be better off dead, if only to keep Mephala's hands away from him.'_

'_How do you know she hasn't already set her sights on him? For all you know, she could be waiting for just the right time to strike, like last time. Maybe she'll have him put you out of your misery, you murderous bitch. You deserve it, for the things you've done. You slew Alduin only to bring more despair to the world.'_

Did she really save the world by killing Alduin? Or did she merely open the gates for the daedra to once again invade Tamriel, using her as a sort of gateway? After all, it was her fault that Vaermina and Mephala were as powerful as they were now.

If she hadn't been such a damn weakling and fallen for their lies, perhaps Tamriel could call itself safe. But right now the world was still in very grave danger. Mephala was more powerful than she had been in centuries and there was very little she couldn't do with the power at her fingertips.

And all of it fell on Alana's shoulders.

Akatosh himself chose her to bear his blood. She was a child of the very gods themselves and all she did was misuse her gifts and fall for the words of demons. Demons that would haunt her for the rest of her existence, never letting her forget of her failure to protect the ones she loved. _'Serana…I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I was such a weak minded idiot.'_

'_Maybe, just maybe, if I didn't drag you into my mess, you'd be alive.' _It was her mistakes, her past sins, that cost Serana her life. How could she possibly atone for that?

'_I can't. Nothing I do or say will give you your life back. Dammit! You should've never fallen in love with a monster like me. I didn't deserve you. I never did. I hurt you by sleeping with Astrid, and yet you still loved me even though I wasn't worthy of it. I should've died instead of you.'_

Alana felt her head become hot. Unnaturally hot. Her frail mind burned with her past agonies, making her see everything she had done. The crimes she committed. The blood she spilled. The people she killed. _"Why? Why did you hurt us, Alana?"_

"_We only wanted to be your friends." _

The blonde clutched the sides of her head, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block the voices out. _'Shut up, shut up!' _

"_But why? Why did you do such horrible things to us? We trusted you, Alana." _

'_Dammit, get out of my head!' _Her cursed arm trembled, a deadly red energy swirling around it like a foul and malevolent mist. She could see their faces as clear as day in front of her, all of them torn up and bloody because of her. Yet despite their horrifying wounds, they smiled at her. Blood dripped from their mouths like crimson rain, and soon the soft dripping was all she could hear.

_Drip...drip…drip…_

"_How does it feel? Knowing that you are responsible for our deaths?" _Their voices joined together into one, and Alana's eyes flung open. No matter where she turned her head, she could see them circling her, drawing closer and closer like a pack of wolves about to rip and tear an elk to shreds with their fangs.

"_Does it hurt?" _they asked, giving her a bloodstained smile. Slimy hissing serpents spilled from between their teeth, creeping along the ground towards her. Alana went to run, but they ensnared her by her ankles and dragged her towards them, their purple eyes glinting as they hissed at her.

Alana fell on her back, and her hand found the handle of her zweihander. She hacked the snakes away, their blood bubbling and spitting like acid as it flowed from their severed heads, and she dragged the heavy blade across the ground before attempting to cut her vision down. "Just stop!"

Her sword swung in an arc, but before she could strike them they all vanished in a flurry of red smoke. The heavy blade hit nothing but air and she collapsed onto her knees, using her sword to lean against.

"Why…?" she asked quietly, tears dripping down her face. "Why does it have to be me?" _'I never wanted this. For any of you.'_

"_But you still did it. Run all you want. We will always be here. You can never escape."_

'_Dammit, just leave me alone!' _Alana rose up, stumbling as pain lanced through her knee. She had hit the ground rather hard with that last desperate swing of her sword, and she could still feel them all watching her hungrily.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt cold steel on her shoulder, and her hand found the handle of her zweihander. Saoron put his hands in the air, backing away. "Easy. It's just me."

Alana relaxed, feeling a sense of guilt evade her mind. She had been inches away from accidentally killing her own friend when all he wanted to do was help her. _'Look at you. About to kill the only friend you have left. Murderer.'_

The powerful magical presence coming from the book made her arm tremble and her head throb painfully, and the blonde glanced back at the brunet before walking away from him. "I'll go and hunt some netch for Milore. I heard her saying something about running out of their jelly. You head on to Raven Rock without me." _'I don't want to be anywhere near that damn book if I can help it. It screams daedric in origin, and not a weak one.'_

Saoron went to stop her, but thought better of it. Instead, his jaw tightened slightly and he nodded. "Okay. Try and stay safe."

"No promises."

"Alana, I mean it. Don't…don't do anything you'll regret."

'_I wouldn't regret it. I should die for what I've done.' _The blonde didn't meet his solemn eyes as they descended the wooden planks of the towers in front of the barrow. The old wood creaked and groaned under their weight, some parts of it crumbling away from mold and fungi, and the brown sea lapped at the ashy shores below them.

A lone reaver was standing guard, and his ruby red eyes shot open with alarm. "What the!?" He reached for a rusty iron sword, and he began to choke and sputter after a crossbow bolt sank into his throat. His sword fell from his grasp and he sank to his knees, letting out horrible coughs as he tried to remove the bolt.

Alana let another one sink into his heart, and she lowered the weapon as his body crumpled in a heap. Blood began to spill from the wound, seeping deep into his hide armor and running down his body.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

That sound was enough to make her lose control of her senses. Her fangs grew as the scent of blood wafted towards her. Compared to the sweet nectar of life that flowed through Astrid's veins, this dunmer's odor was pungent and tainted by alcohol.

Still, it was better than starving. Rather reluctantly, she crouched down and let her sharp canines pierce the dead dunmer's throat. Spurts of blood pumped out from her puncturing an artery, and it flowed over her tongue with all the elegance of a clogged river.

Alana stood up and wiped her chin once she had her fill and headed down up the coast, going north away from Raven Rock. Her boots sank gently in the ashy sand, and she could hear the gentle chiming of a nirnroot plant by the shore. The rare plant glowed brightly in the darkness of night, and a trio of netch floated by the cliffside. The large creatures were unaware of the blonde, and she pulled out a steel bolt to load her crossbow.

'_Forgive me. Please.' _She aimed and fired.

The bolt soared true, and it struck the bull netch in its leathery skin. The creature was surprised by the sudden attack, and it floated towards her with its head lowered in preparation for an attack. A second and third crossbow embedded themselves in its skin, and the netch crashed to ground in defeat.

The betty netch and its calf, seeing the male taken down with such ease, opted to retreat instead of risk taking on the blonde vampire. Alana didn't pay them mind; instead she harvested the thick slimy jelly from its body, storing it in her alchemy pouch sewn to the leg of her pants. _'That ought to be enough for her. I'll leave it by her alchemy table in town.'_

She could feel exhaustion eating away at her limbs, and all she could concentrate on was putting one foot in front of the other as she headed back into town. Saoron had probably already made it back by now.

Alana stopped in her tracks and lowered her head, reaching for Clockwork. She could feel something behind her, and it wasn't friendly. "Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me!?" She whirled around and swung her sword at the shadowy mass that appeared behind her.

Her blade missed entirely; the creature dodged the strike with the grace of a dancer and hit her hard in the chest. The blonde fell on her back, spitting out a mouthful of blood and getting a good look at her assailant.

The being was utterly hideous, with a humanoid face stuck in the middle of a snake's head. A long purple tongue lolled about, and the demon cackled madly as it took a swipe at her with one of its clawed hands. The claws themselves were longer than her forearm, and the arms muscular. It was bipedal and stood over twelve feet tall, and before Alana could react, a powerful lash of its tail sent her crashing through the brittle wood of a tree.

Alana rolled to her feet, holding her left arm. It dangled uselessly at her side, and she cried out when she tried to move it. It was broken, and the vampire fired her crossbow at it. The bolt barely punctured the tough sickly green scales of its chest, and the demon laughed. "You think you can kill me!? No pathetic human can kill me!"

It hit her again with its tail, catching her in the chest. Her ribs cracked, and she spat out a mouthful of blood. This was no ordinary daedra. This was something else entirely, and it was beating her badly.

Alana rolled to the side to avoid getting stabbed in the chest by a talon, reaching out for her sword. She cried in pain as the demon's tail slammed into her back. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, and yet she still reached out towards her sword.

The tail came down again, this time on her hand. Fingers broke, but she still refused to give up. She had bested dragons, for Talos' sake. She was not about to let this monster beat her.

But that third strike hit the back of her leg, damaging her knee. She could barely even stand, and she let out a pained cry as the demon picked her up with one hand, its tongue swirling about. The sharp talons dug into her shoulders, blood gushing wetly from the wounds, and the daedra hunter could barely stay conscious.

She hadn't been so thoroughly beaten like this since she battled Boethiah's Champion over a year ago. She could feel every wound, every broken bone. Her vampire blood was coursing through her body, trying to repair the damage as best as it could, but there was so much it was trying to focus on to do any good.

The demon smirked triumphantly, licking its lips at her. Its purple eyes glowed in triumph as it stared the badly injured hunter down. "Fragile. So easily broken. You humans are nothing more than prey for us demons. You will make one delicious treat."

The beast opened its powerful jaws to swallow her whole, revealing razor sharp teeth, and Alana's lips parted. **"Fus Ro Dah!" **The blast of magic sent the demon tumbling onto its back, dropping the blonde unceremoniously. Alana crashed in a heap and noticed her sword was lying right next to her next to the sleeve she used to cover her afflicted right arm.

She picked up the silver zweihander with one hand and dragged the tip across the ground. With one desperate swing of the mighty blade, she cleaved the demon in half at the shoulder. Blood sprayed out of the wound viciously as the heavy sword tore through ribbons of flesh, and the demon screamed in agony.

Wobbling to her feet, Alana stalked towards the fallen monster with a storm of hatred brewing in her golden gaze. "Didn't you say a human couldn't kill you?"

The demon was still partially alive, and its eyes were wide with fear as it looked at her right arm, now exposed for it to see. "T-that arm! You're the…!"

It screamed as a crossbow bolt sank into its bloody chest, and Alana stared at it with contempt. She would enjoy making this bastard suffer. "That's right. We humans are fragile and weak. And yet when we're pushed to breaking, we find a way to fight back. Every. Single. Time. Perhaps you should understand our pain." Another bolt hit it in the face.

Her lips curled in a furious snarl. "I will be the messenger who will deliver you to that pain and understanding." The third bolt hit its bloody and beaten body, sinking into the remains of the left side of its chest.

"P-please! Please, don't kill me!" it pleaded, its eyes wide with fear. "J-just stop! I beg of you!"

Alana let out a bitter laugh, her eyes merciless molten pits of fury as she stepped hard on one of the bolts to drive it deeper into the demon's body. Blood welled up and it screamed in agony, and the blonde leaned down to spit bloody saliva in its ugly face. "Tell me, how many times have you heard those exact words?"

"Y-you will never—"

Alana's sword came down through its head, killing the demon. Her sword went down to its scaly throat, and she removed it with her eyes filled with hate. "It was a rhetorical question."

The demon's body hissed and bubbled, turning into a pool of black acid until it vanished. With it gone Alana fell to her knees, letting her own blood run from her body. Every breath hurt, and she felt her battered chest gingerly.

Whatever that creature was, it wasn't any ordinary daedra. It was much stronger than anything she had ever gone up against and it put her through hell. Her adrenaline was wearing off, and she could hear the steady dripping of blood from Clockwork.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

Using her sword for leverage, Alana hefted herself to her feet painfully and began to limp back towards Raven Rock. Her leg was practically useless for the time being; even with her vampire powers it would take at least three days for her to recover from being bashed by the foul demon's tail.

'_What was that thing? It wasn't like anything I've ever fought against. It…it was like something out of a nightmare.' _The being knew who she was once it saw her arm, too. Only a daedra could possibly recognize the limb's curse. But what was it? Who created such a foul monster with the sole intent of hunting her down and waiting until she was alone to strike?

'_Perhaps if you let it kill you, you would have found out,' _part of her thought with a snarl. _'And you would taste the pain you deserve.'_

Alana lowered her head, her heart heavy with guilt and regret. The demon that attacked her was assuredly only the first of many that would come out and try to take her life, as well as those of anyone around her. The entire population of Raven Rock was possibly in danger, and she had brought the demons right to their doorstep. The colony was practically a feast for them.

Her head throbbed painfully, and she rubbed her temples with a wince. She needed to sleep, especially after tonight. Her eyelids drooped and became heavier with each step, and after a few hours she found herself back in Raven Rock.

The colony was eerily quiet, almost too quiet. The salty tang of the sea landed on her tongue, and she coughed as a bit of ash got in her throat. _'Damn ash.'_

She looked down at herself, and her lip curled in disgust. Her pants were riddled with rips and tears, exposing the pale skin underneath. The right strap of her vest had been ripped, letting it fall partially forward. The cool wind battered at her chest, and she shivered. _'This island still gets too damn cold for my liking at night.'_

The blonde eventually found herself standing front Milore's farm in town. The only light was the dim fires provided by Glover Mallory's forge, but her dark clothing allowed her to blend in with the shadows easier. She reached into her alchemy pouch and set the netch jelly on the alchemy table, hastily scribbling out a note for the alchemist when she woke up the next morning with her husband.

_Milore,_

_I heard you were running out of netch jelly. I fetched some for you last night. I hope this is enough to replenish your stock._

_-The Black Swordswoman_

Short, to the point, and without ask of a reward. She didn't want to be rewarded for killing. Not anymore. Alana was tired of seeing gold float her way for spilling blood.

With the note placed under the jelly Alana turned away and left the farm. She could hear the approaching footsteps of an approaching Redoran Guard in the distance, the stiff bonemold boots sinking into the ashy soil, and she did not want to be caught by one of the elite soldiers.

Alana quickly made her way to her home, fumbling with the key due to her broken arm, and eventually she eased it open without being seen. She closed locked the door behind her and slid down to the floor with a labored breath. The cool stone surface felt wonderful on her body at the present time, and she raised her good arm to push her long hair back. Her hand came away wet with blood, and she scoffed before rising up and hobbling over to her bed.

Alana let Clockwork rest against the wall and she looked at the blade as she cautiously undressed herself to not aggravate her existing injuries any more than she already had. The aetherium coating was unscratched despite the beating Alana just put it through; she doubted even Requiem could have lasted against such a demon.

She peeled her vest and pants off, grimacing. Her vest could be repaired, but the pants would definitely need to be placed at the market in the morning. They simply couldn't be salvaged, no matter what she tried. Blood and grime coated the bits that weren't torn, and the blonde chucked them into the fireplace.

Holding her side as she felt pain shoot through her body, she clumsily made her way to her bed and flopped down on it. It wasn't the most luxurious of beds ever made, but right now it felt softer and more inviting than anything she had ever slept on.

Alana stared blankly at the ceiling, the dim light of the candles creating a spectacular painting of moving shadows on the walls. _'What am I doing? Why am I forcing myself to go on each day, pretending that I could make things better? I haven't done anything good. All I do is lie, cheat, and kill.'_

She never felt so lonely before. Alana had become very used to Serana's presence at night; she would be the calming presence Alana desperately needed when her nightmares were at their worst. Now, she was left to suffer with them alone. No comforting kiss on the cheek, no tender embrace; nothing.

'_Serana, I shouldn't have tried to fight back. I should've just accepted death, if it meant sparing you.'_

'_Then why don't you, you worthless bitch? Do it. Throw yourself off a cliff. No one would care. They'd probably rejoice when your corpse floats to shore.'_

Alana let her head sink on her pillow and closed her eyes. She was afraid to admit it, but her other self was right.

She should die.

* * *

Geldis whistled a cheerful tune as he cleaned the bar of his club, a smile etched onto his old features. Things were starting to turn around, little by little. The ebony mine had been reopened after Crescius managed to find proof that he wasn't a crazy old hermit, meaning once again there was a steady source of income. The miners were happy to once again be back at work, and all of it was thanks to Saoron's discovery in the mines last night. But that wasn't the only news in town.

Milore had found a supply of netch jelly that would keep her stock full for the next few months. And she had received a letter for the person responsible. The Black Swordswoman herself.

The town was surprised to hear the news, but Councilor Morvayn seemed elated. He carried himself with a much calmer air now that it seemed as though the daedra hunter had nothing but good intentions for them. _'There's hope here again. We've been lacking it for a long time. The mines are open, and that means the shops will be busy again. Fethis and his daughter will be happy for once.'_

The old dunmer looked up and sighed when he saw the blonde Nord stumble into the cornerclub, looking no worse for wear. She looked as though something ate her and spat her back out; thick bandages covered both of her arms and her knee, and several ugly cuts were on her cheeks. _'By Azura, what happened to her?'_

His first instinct was to try and ask if she was okay, but he saw the familiar look in her golden eyes. The girl was anything but okay. She limped over to the bar and lowered herself onto a stool with a wince, and the dunmer put down the rag he was using to clean a plate from last night. "The usual?"

Alana nodded yes and Geldis reached under the counter to pull out a bottle of whiskey, pouring the woman a drink. She took it in her right hand and downed its contents, and Geldis' red eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The entire year the Nord had been a resident of Raven Rock, he had only ever seen her use her left hand to drink or do any kind of task. She had favored her right hand due to whatever injury lied underneath the heavy black bandages.

But now, Geldis was able to make out a bit of blackened flesh peeking out from the bandage. _'Her arm…what is that? Is it a plague?_' He dismissed the possibility of it being an illness. Despite her drinking, she was relatively healthy physically.

"Miss, are you alright?" he asked, gesturing to her arm.

Alana covered her arm immediately, averting her gaze. "I'm fine."

"Alana—"

"Don't call me that," she snarled, meeting his gaze with a glare that would freeze a bear in its tracks. Her hand trembled, and Geldis could see the pain swimming in those brilliant eyes of hers as she stood up from the bar. "Don't _ever_ call me that."

She dumped a small pile of coin onto the bar before leaving as fast as her injured state would allow her. As he stared at her retreating back, a thought crossed his mind. It was an impossible one, for no one had caught her in the act, but it was still there. _'Those kinds of injuries…you only pick those up by fighting.'_

'_Is it _her_? Is she the daedra hunter?'_

But that would mean either Saoron was lying to him or genuinely didn't know. Something told the old elf that it was the former; he had seen how loyal the Breton was to her. Saoron still never told Geldis what it was that Alana came to him for over a year ago.

If Alana truly was the Black Swordswoman…then Geldis honestly felt like he could rest a little easier. The nightmares that had started to plague his sleep in recent weeks were about to come to a swift and brutal end.

_**A/N: Yeah, this fic is kinda fucked up, I know. There are parts of this even I can't stand to reread. It's just…I dunno, really not good for my mental health. These kinds of stories affect you mentally. **_

_**C. Strife #5371**_


	4. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 4

_**A/N: Well, here's chapter four. It took me a little longer than I would have liked to come out with this one, but I do need to take serious breaks from this story. It's not good for my mental state to focus too much on it. **_

_**You have a warning for mentioned sexual assault. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 4***

Raven Rock was far more alive than it had been in recent weeks thanks to the discovery her and Saoron made in the depths of the mine last night, yet even though the dunmer colony was hopeful and cheerful, Alana couldn't bring herself to smile. The muscles in her mouth were simply unused to the action, and if they were familiar with it she wouldn't smile. She was little more than a dried bee husk.

Alana rubbed her eyes, completely exhausted and wincing at the jolts of pain that shot through her body. Even with her vampire powers, broken bones still took time to heal properly. It was pure agony to walk thanks to the demon bashing her knee in last night, and she tried to balance her weight on her good leg for the time being. It would be a few days before she could actually fight again.

She had hoped that a few hours of sleep would be enough for her to recover, but she was horribly wrong. The second she closed her eyes, she was thrust into a horrifying nightmare that made her quake. She was surrounded by dozens of hungry demons, all of them licking their lips at the sight of her. She was completely bare, and her arms weren't able to reach the zweihander in the distance before they closed in on her. At first, she thought they wanted to devour her like famished sabre cats. That would've been a mercy compared to what they did to her.

They wanted to make her scream. They fell on her the second she tried to run, and she was powerless to stop them from violating her over and over. She pleaded and begged for them to stop, and yet her cries were ignored. They used her like a common whore and when she thought it couldn't get worse, it did.

A twisted form of Serana appeared and laughed at her screams, encouraging them to use her more. She then looked down at the sobbing blonde with a sneer of contempt, fangs dripping with sickly red blood. _"What, you thought I would help you? After everything you've done? You deserve to know the meaning of suffering."_

She stood over her, ignoring Alana's screams as she was violated by the horde of demons. Alana wanted to die; she pleaded with them to just kill her, desperate for it to end. And they finally did, by tearing out her throat with fangs coated with filthy grime and saliva.

Only then did she wake up from the nightmare, drenched in a cold sweat and her throat dry from screaming. Every part of her body shook and she hugged herself tightly, letting her tears flow and wishing for the warm embrace that would never come.

She was still shaken by what she had seen, and the blonde slowly made her way over to Milore's farm for a few alchemy supplies to make a few potions for later tonight. The dunmer was hard at working mashing ingredients together in the tiny wooden bowl, part of her pink tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

Milore finished mixing her ingredients, and the harsh tangy odor of trauma root and red mountain flowers wafted up Alana's nostrils. It was strangely cleansing in a way, clearing out her senses and doing its best to banish the terrifying nightmare into the dark corners of her mind.

"Been busy today?" Alana asked, her voice little more than a soft murmur.

Milore nodded, letting the hood of her blue robes fall off her head. "It has, now that the mine is reopened. Lots of miners coming in asking for stamina potions. Damn fools are so eager to get back to work, they're forgetting they have limits. But how are you doing? Are your arms feeling any better?"

"They're fine, thank you." Alana brushed her hand against her right arm, feeling it tremble under her worn white shirt. The curse Mephala put on her to make her see herself as a walking nightmare was fitting; she did nothing but bring death and despair no matter where she went like a cursed harbinger, and it was only a matter of time before the people of Raven Rock suffered the fate so many already did.

'_Don't pretend you're sad. We both know why you're trembling, and it's not from fear. It's the guilt we feel, the sins we committed.'_

'_You're not real, you're not real…'_

'_How cute. You think I'm some other entity. I'm you, Alana. I'm always here, whether you like it or not,' _'she' whispered internally. _'I can see everything. You try and fight on, but you want them to kill you. You crave death. It burns like a primal hunger in our heart, the guilt of our sins crushing you like a helpless little lamb waiting for slaughter.'_

Alana felt her other self gnawing away at her mind, constantly threatening to take it over. She didn't have any will or desire to really fight back against it for it was right. Alana wanted to die; she felt she deserved it for what she had done. _'I do deserve it. I misused my powers to lie, cheat, and kill. Some savior I was. It was my destiny to save Skyrim, not ruin it.'_

"I hope that netch jelly you got is enough," she said quietly.

"By Azura, it's more than enough!" Milore exclaimed, looking at the jars Alana collected in the night. "And to think that the Black Swordswoman would do something like that out of the kindness of her heart. She's guaranteed me a supply of netch jelly to last me a few months. I won't have to worry about getting ambushed by a pack of reavers or ash spawn."

The dark elf alchemist rubbed her red eyes wearily and yawned. "I just wish I could get a wink of sleep. Haven't had any except these constant nightmares. It's so strange."

"Nightmares?" Alana blinked. "What kind?"

"The most horrible things." Milore shuddered. "My husband transforming into some hideous monster with slimy tentacles for arms, a spiked tail longer than one of Glover's claymores and the most hateful purple eyes no person should ever have. It was like he was…some sort of demon."

'_Demons. Nightmares. Tormenting the targets with their worst nightmares. It's Vaermina.' _Alana's eyes began to glow hot and she seethed, her arm trembling. _'The bitch is making a claim on Raven Rock. I should've known, after I was attacked last night.'_

'_And to think, all of this was because you were such a fool to believe that Erandur would turn on you and killed him to claim the Skull of Corruption. How deliciously ironic. It's almost as if history is destined to repeat itself.' _

She lowered her head, already feeling as though she failed again. It was happening once again. _'Dammit. It's happening, all over again. Oh gods, I never wanted this. None of it.'_

'_But you did it. You still committed those atrocities and had the gall to think you can atone for them. Stop lying to yourself and face it. You should perish. Maybe then, the people's nightmares will stop.'_

The blonde turned away from Milore's farm with a quiet nod of farewell and let her feet carry her back to the cornerclub. Her newfound addiction was not easy to combat, and she found the urge to waste away under the influence of alcohol almost overpowering.

'_Do it. You and I both know you want it. You crave the familiar burn, like a hunger.'_

Alana felt a twinge of guilt at her outburst towards the bartender earlier, when she went in to grab a quick drink in an attempt to forget the horrible nightmare she had. She was sure he meant no harm, but hearing her name spoken to her in such a way brought up very painful memories. _'That day…you told me to live for the both of us.' _

'_It was easy to make that promise, Serana.'_

She lowered her head and thought back on the last words Serana got to share before she was snatched away from her by her worst enemy. _'For the sake of those you love, be free.'_

'_Something I can never be. I'll never be free of them.' _Her knee banged into a porcelain urn, and she bit her lip to prevent from crying out as her leg buckled. Her healing abilities were nowhere near as powerful as they once were; like most of her skills they had waned over the past year, and as a result they were taking longer to repair her torn muscles. She wouldn't be fit to fight for at least another day or so, but she had never let injuries stop her before.

'_Maybe you'll get lucky and be killed like the murderous bitch you are.' _Alana caught herself before she could fall, clutching the dusty old roped fence that surrounded Fethis' shop. She remembered she still had the East Empire pendant to sell to him, and she approached the dunmer merchant.

Fethis was busying tanning some leather on tanning rack outside his hut, and he glanced up as she approached. "Well, it's busier now that things are starting to look up. I guess I'll stay here for a little while longer."

Alana reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out the amulet, letting its thin chain slip through her fingers like sand. "I heard you're looking for these pendants."

Fethis stopped what he was doing and looked at the amulet carefully. His red eyes widened when he realized what it was, and he nodded. "Yes. I'll pay you a good price for any you find. I think you'll find five hundred gold to be fair?"

Alana nodded quietly. It was similar pay she received doing jobs for the Thieves Guild when it was still together, though she didn't have to break into anyone's house or steal from a thane's coffers. _'No. I merely had to go through a Nordic ruin, fight a dragon priest, and nearly get killed by a demon.'_ There really was no such thing as easy gold in the world. Not without being born into royalty.

"I'd ask how you managed to get your hands on it, but even I understand some stories are better left untold." Fethis pocketed the East Empire pendant and handed her a hefty pile of gold. "Don't worry; every single septim is in there. I know better than to cross you."

Alana bit back a scoff. Suffering loss after loss thanks to Mephala's manipulation made her see a potential enemy no matter where her head turned, even if it they genuinely meant her no harm. _'You should be afraid. You won't say it, but you know that I'm a monster.'_

'_You wouldn't shed a single tear if I died. No one would.' _The miserable blonde took the gold and headed down the dusty street to the cornerclub. She could hear angry snarls coming from within the club, and the Redoran Guard soldier posted outside muttered something irritably as he pushed the door open to let her in.

Alana headed down the worn steps and she saw the source of all the commotion. A pair of miners were busy yelling angry drunken insults at each other, and Alana rolled her eyes before taking a seat at one of the many tables. She snapped her fingers to get the bartender's attention, and he sighed before giving her a brief nod.

He picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured her a drink before carrying it over to her table. When he placed it in front of her, his red eyes were solemn. "My apologies for earlier. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong," Alana murmured, taking the drink and downing its contents. The burn of the liquid pouring down her throat was all too familiar to her now; she spent hours after hours of her time wasting away, her heart being crushed by guilt and pain. _'If anyone's in the wrong, it's me. I allowed this to happen. I couldn't save anyone. I'm not fit to help anyone, when I can't even care for myself.' _

'_You probably regret ever meeting me, don't you Serana? I came into your life and brought nothing but chaos. I'm sorry. I never deserved your loyalty or affections.' _Alana stared blankly at the table, the gentle flickering of the candle's flame dancing in her golden eyes. A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks, and her head sunk.

'_Astrid…I'm sorry. You shouldn't have fallen for me. I brought death and pain to your family. If I hadn't come your way…perhaps you'd still be happy.'_ The blonde blinked when a steaming hot cup of tea slid her way, and she looked up to see a familiar face sit down across from her. "Saoron…"

The Breton had a plate of roasted potatoes and a leg of goat roast, and he pushed some of it over to her. "Eat. I know you haven't been." Alana winced at the hidden rebuke in his words, another wave of guilt creeping up on her. He wasn't entirely wrong; Alana barely ate nowadays and only fed on blood when it was a necessity. She wouldn't starve to death thanks to her vampirism, but even she couldn't ignore the hunger that clawed away at her belly for too much longer.

Though her body was demanding she take it, part of her didn't want to. Her arms felt heavy as if they were made of stone, and looked at the hot meal in front of her with a blank look. _'Would you care at all if I died, or would you rejoice in it? I hope it's the latter, for what I did to you.' _

Alana knew Saoron wasn't going to leave unless she actually ate something to help speed up her healing process, and with great reluctance she tucked in. However, the moment the first bite hit her tongue, she knew something was wrong. The food tasted like it had turned into a pile of ash, and her stomach churned horribly. _'What the!?'_

"Alana!" Saoron pushed the plate aside as the blonde immediately began to choke, trying to hack it up.

'_It's poisoned!' _she realized, spittle dripping from her lips as she fell on all fours clutching at her throat. She could spot a small bit of a plant sticking out from the goat roast as the poison wreaked havoc on her weakened state. It was red and hidden by the tender crispy skin of the meat, but she could make out a few spines along its surface. _'Scathecraw!'_

"Alana, focus on me," Saoron instructed, reaching in his alchemy pouch for an antidote. "Drink this, as quickly as you can." He unscrewed the cap and tossed it aside, holding it to her bluing lips as her throat slowly closed up from the poison. It became harder and harder to breathe with each passing second, and her vision began to darken as it took its toll on her.

Each breath of air was pure agony; pain coursed through her body and she let out a choked scream as the poison attacked her damaged limbs, eating away at the muscles and bones. Her body spasmed and sweat began to roll down her face, and she could feel Saoron's rough hands cupping her face and wiping her forehead. "Dammit, stay with me!"

Alana tried to focus, but her vision was nothing more than a hazy blur and she felt her mouth open. The taste of ground up hawk feathers and mudcrab chitin hit her tongue and the blonde's throat slowly began to open back up once the antidote started to make its way through her system. The pain though didn't go away and soon she found herself panting heavily with exhaustion, struggling to keep conscious.

She could see the outline of Saoron's face and a trembling hand went out to touch him, but her exhaustion got the better of her and she let her head hit the floor.

* * *

Saoron put his hand on Alana's throat, feeling her pulse to make sure she was still alive. Her breathing was weak but steady. She'd live, but right now the Breton felt a surge of furious protectiveness as he picked her up in his muscular arms. Someone wanted her dead and came very close to succeeding. _'Someone sabotaged the kitchens. Geldis wouldn't stab me in the back like that.' _

Saoron hefted the unconscious blonde over his shoulders and sent Geldis a look that said, 'We need to talk'. The dark elf gave the most subtle of nods in response and went about dispersing the crowd that had gathered while Alana was on the ground. "Alright, the party is over. I'm closing the cornerclub down for the night. If you have a problem, take it up with Councilor Morvayn."

The Breton carried her outside, ignoring the looks he was getting from both the Redoran Guard and the citizens of Raven Rock. Something was definitely wrong about this whole situation. _'Someone was studying her habits. They knew she'd be in the cornerclub drinking at that time. All they had to do was wait.'_

'_But who? Who would be so bold as to attempt an assassination on her in broad daylight? The Morag Tong, perhaps?' _Part of him somehow doubted it; Alana was no longer associated with the Dark Brotherhood and hadn't had any contact with their members for over a year.

But, he also knew that they worshipped Mephala, and Alana was one of her mortal enemies. It would be all too fitting. Mephala liked to work in the shadows and strike when her target was on their knees. Alana wasn't as strong as she was a year ago and wasn't capable of fighting back against a daedric prince. _'The Tong wouldn't have any quarrels with killing her. if Mephala demanded it, they'd do it in a heartbeat. Bitch would love to take Alana for herself.'_

Saoron pulled out his spare key and opened the door to Alana's house, kicking it closed behind him. The brunet put her down on her bed and pulled the blanket over her, keeping her warm. It would take a few hours before the antidote fully cleansed her body of the poison.

In the meantime, he would talk to both Geldis and Captain Veleth about the situation. If the Morag Tong was behind this attempt like he suspected, they would need to deal with them as soon as they could to prevent further assassinations. He doubted they'd stop at killing Alana. _'They are the most believable suspects, out of anyone. No one in town has a hatred for her, as far as I know.'_

His eyes darkened and he locked the door behind him as he left, giving Alana's sleeping form one last look. "I'll be back, Alana. I promise."

He made his way back to the cornerclub and inside he found Geldis already talking with the captain of the Redoran Guard. _'Good, they're both here.' _

"Captain, I can promise you I had nothing to do with this," Geldis said. "Please, you've got to believe me."

"I understand. However it does look suspicious that she was poisoned after taking a bite of food that you had prepared," the captain replied. "You can't deny that things do look incriminating."

"Captain, I'll vouch for him." The Breton joined the conversation, standing on either side of the two elves. "Geldis wouldn't stab either of us in the back. I have reason to believe it was an assassination attempt by the Morag Tong."

"The Tong? But why would they want her dead? It doesn't make any sense." Captain Veleth's ruby red eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless there's something you're not telling us about her?"

Saoron glanced around to make sure they were alone, and he sighed. _'Well, it wasn't going to remain a secret forever. If we want to get behind this, it'll have to be revealed.' _"Before I tell you, I need you to make a promise. None of the words that are spoken here leave this room. Understood?"

"This is damn serious then. You have my word." Veleth nodded.

"As well as mine," Geldis added.

"Very well. What I am about to tell you is a secret to everyone in Raven Rock except myself. Alana is the one who has been protecting all of you under the cover of night," Saoron said. "Alana is the Black Swordswoman."

"She's really the daedra hunter?" Geldis asked. "I mean, I had my suspicions when she came in earlier looking like something ate her and spat her back out, but I didn't think a broken shell of a woman was capable of being a powerful killer."

"There's a certain way experienced fighters carry themselves," Veleth pointed out, folding his muscular arms. "She may be younger than all of us here, but she has seen what war and bloodshed look like. There's a haunted look in her eyes that reveal it all. But, that doesn't answer the question of why the Morag Tong would want her head on a spike."

"Alana's greatest enemy, the one who pushed her to become the daedra hunter, is Mephala. The Tong worship her," Saoron pointed out. "Mephala has stolen everything from her, and won't stop until she gets Alana for herself."

"But…why would Mephala want her? What value does she have to a daedric prince?" Veleth asked. "She could very easily go for any random person, but why her specifically?"

Saoron paused, thinking of how to answer the captain's question. He supposed if he wanted to get help destroying the Morag Tong, he'd need to let him know everything. _'Dammit. I suppose this secret is no longer a secret, either. It's for the best, I suppose.' _

"Tell me; how much do you know about the Dragonborn?"

* * *

The dark elf hissed in anger, punching the crumbling walls of Ashfallow Citadel as he shed his chitin armor. He was so close to completing his mission, so close to finally slaughtering that blonde harlot in the name of his mistress. His plan to sabotage her food was a success, but he didn't expect that damned Breton to interfere and save her life.

'_Dammit! We were so close!' _he fumed. _'Now, with this failure, our lady will be most displeased.' _

He fell to his knees before the statue of his goddess, bowing his head and accepting his failure. "My Lady, please forgive me. I regret to inform you that I was not successful in completing my mission. The woman you desired for yourself is still, regrettably, alive. I did not anticipate her friend to interfere with my objective."

When his goddess spoke, her voice was sweet and dangerous, like poisoned honey. _"Do not fret, my loyal servant. She will die, in time. It is only a matter of time before her life is finally exhausted and I can claim her soul for whatever I desire. My dear sister is working on delightful new ways to break her mind."_

The elf lifted his head, marveling in his goddess's cruel beauty and power. "But..what if her allies decide to attack us? What will we do?"

"_If they do…then it's quite simple," _Mephala said with a cold smile on her elegant lips. _"Kill them all like helpless sheep waiting to be slaughtered. Now go speak with our informant in Raven Rock. Make sure he is prepared to make a move on the Councilor. We strike in two days time."_

"Yes, my Lady." The elf rose up, feeling grateful she spared him any pain and punishment. "I'll see to it at once."

He left in a hurry, and Mephala laughed.

"_I told you, didn't I, Alana? You are mine."_

_**A/N: A little shorter than I'd like, I admit. But I'm still okay with how it turned out. Next chapter, be ready to see some shit go down. Hopefully it doesn't take me a month, but we'll see.**_

_**C. Strife #5371**_


	5. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 5

_**A/N: Well, here's chapter five. We're opening up with another nightmare courtesy of one of my favorite potential villains in Elder Scrolls, Vaermina. Seriously, she's perfect for one of these kinds of fics. Her sphere is literally psychological torture. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 5***

_Alana looked around at the inky abyss that surrounded her, shivering as the harshest of winds rattled her bones. She could hear the faintest of whispers in the dark shadows, but no matter where her head turned, she couldn't make out what they were saying. _

_Her hand reached instinctively for the zweihander that was usually hung from her back, and to her horror she realized that her arms were not toned and muscled. They were the arms of a small sixteen year old girl, unable to carry a heavy blade. Her hands trembled with the horrifying realization, and the faint whispers in the dark grew louder and louder._

_Alana looked up and saw movement in the darkness, and the whispers turned into malevolent hisses, buzzing louder and louder in her ears. She backed away as a pair of glowing red eyes approached her, and she could taste the malevolent aura surrounding it. The blonde felt an overwhelming sense of fear, and she could feel every part of her body shake as the set of eyes grew closer. _

_She looked at her shaking hands, and she gasped in horror when she saw the person who bore that hateful red gaze. "S-serana?"_

_Serana's hand flashed, and Alana gasped as a searing hot wave of pain coursed through her chest. Her fearful gaze looked down and saw the ebony dagger buried in her, and she felt her eyes water with tears as her blood flowed down the dagger and dripped onto the floor. "W-why…?"_

"_Why? Because it's what should've been done," Serana hissed. "I should've killed you the day we met. You're nothing, you hear me? Nothing! You deserve to die by my hand!"_

_She twisted, and Alana coughed out a mouthful of blood as the dagger buried itself further in her heart. Red splatters fell on her hand and the blonde sank to her knees clutching the handle of the weapon. Her teary gaze looked up at Serana, and she managed to choke out a few words. "S-serana…I'm sorry…"_

_Serana scoffed and brushed past her, leaving her to her fate. Alana looked up at her with eyes flowing with tears, her breaths growing shallower with each second. Soon, she collapsed on her side before she let her head hit the ground. _

_She embraced death._

* * *

Alana woke up with a gasp, her body still trembling. Her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and for a moment she didn't know where she was or if she was even still alive. A few agonizing seconds ticked by and she recognized her bedroom. _'I'm…I'm home. But how? Did Saoron carry me back?'_

She let her head hit her pillow again and she looked up at the light tan ceiling of her house. A shadow danced on the walls and she tried to remember what had happened prior to her ending up back in bed. _'I was about to eat, and then…'_

'_I was poisoned. Someone tried to kill me.' _By the Divines, every joint in her body ached and throbbed, and she shivered as cold sweat dripped down and stained her sheets. Her body was still trying to fight off the poison that had coursed through her veins, and she focused all of her magic into her healing process to repair the parts of her that were damaged the most. Her fingers were mostly healed by now, and she removed the bandages binding them together to give them a wiggle. A stab of pain ran up her hand and she winced. She knew shouldn't go out and fight against daedra for at least another day, but she never listened to her body.

The blonde Nord thought about the nightmare she just had, of Serana killing her and calling her worthless. The rational side of her mind tried its best to scream at her and tell her it wasn't real, but she didn't listen to it. _'It should've been real. It would've been better, for everyone. They'd be alive and happy without fear of me. I'm nothing but a monster.' _

How many friends? How many families? Alana could remember them all, and she knew they would never forgive her for what she'd done. _'I want to die. I wish whoever tried to kill me succeeded. Better to die than live like this.' _

The soft dripping of melting wax reached her ears and she turned her head to look at the lone candle on her bedside table. A copy of one of the many books detailing Raven Rock's history rested next to it, and the light of the small flame gave its cover a unique maroon glow. Her gaze watched the wax as it steadily dripped down, seeing it splatter on the bottom of the candleholder, and she struggled to sit up. _'Where's Saoron? He obviously carried me back, but where is he?'_

The blonde felt her arm spasm, and her horrified gaze looked down at it as it transformed. "N-no…please, no!" It was surrounded in a dark red energy, and the pain that ran through her limb was searing hot as if she had been stabbed by a sword fresh out of a forge. She wanted to scream, but she found herself unable to utter out little more than a low rasp and she was forced onto her knees.

"_Give in. You know you want to. You can feel it gnawing away, begging for release. I command you, submit! Embrace the revolting monster you are!"_

'_Get out, get out!' _

"_I'm you, remember? I'm the part you try so desperately to hide, but no matter what you do, I'm always here. Face it, Alana. You are nothing more than a daedric puppet."_

She felt the air grow thick and heavy, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe. A cold and sticky sweat poured down her body, turning her into little more than a shivering mess on the floor. Her limbs trembled and shook, and her mouth was wide open in a silent wail of agony. Thousands of tiny red hot knives dug into her at once, and everything in her body burned. It felt as though her very insides were being melted away, and she fell on her back. _'What's happening to me!?'_

Her throat convulsed and she began to hack up blood. Sticky red drops spilled from between her fingers as she tried to cover her mouth, and she looked at the red splatters on the palm of her hand. _'That poison is still affecting me, even with the antidotes.' _

She wasn't a master alchemist by any means, but she knew enough about the native plants on Solstheim to know that scathecraw was perfect for making deadly poisons that would ravage the target's health. Consuming it raw would have devastating effects as well.

Alana crawled over to the alchemy table in her basement, leaving a thin trail of bloodspots in her wake. The antidote Saoron gave her was enough to prevent her from dying, but the effects were still too strong for her body to handle in her weakened state. She needed another to prevent her insides from being dissolved.

Alana found the dark green satchel that hung from the table, and she propped herself up and tugged it by the leather strap to make it fall on the floor. With shaking hands she managed to fish out an antidote, and the blonde yanked out the stopper before downing its contents like it was mead. She grimaced at the taste, but she fought back a snarl of disgust.

She felt it affect her rather quickly, and Alana found the strength to heft herself to her feet. Her knees wobbled, threatening to give way, but she forced herself to stand, using every bit of her strength to prevent from falling on her face. She gripped onto the table to steady herself, and she wiped the corner of her mouth and saw her hand come away red.

Her vampire blood boiled and hissed under her skin as the antidote coursed through her system, unused to such an invader, and she hobbled her way over to the barrels of liquor she had stashed. She needed a drink.

The barrels were as worn and dull as the floor of the basement itself, though without a speck of dust on them thanks to her cleaning whenever she got a chance. She pried top of one barrel off to reveal the light brown liquid within, and she grabbed a clean mug from nearby before dipping it into its depths and scooping out a full cup of her favorite whiskey. Normally she only drank it in the form of two shots in a single glass.

But today, she didn't care despite knowing how much it would mess her up. She raised it to her lips and swallowed its contents, blinking back the heavy blow as it affected it almost immediately. The mug fell from her fingers and onto the floor with a clatter, and she stumbled. "D-dammit…"

She closed the barrel of whiskey as quick as she could in her impaired state, leaning on it with a loud groan as she felt a sudden wave of nausea as the alcohol hit her stomach. "Ugh…" _'That was a bad idea.'_

She clutched her stomach with a grimace, her face twisted in pain as she limped back up the steps to the first floor of the house. The sun looked like it had started to go down, and Alana hobbled over to her dresser and started pulling out the drawers to get changed.

She stopped when she found the first gift Serana ever gave to her, a beautifully crafted necklace with a shiny emerald in the center of gold. It was a piece of jewelry that would make any khajit trader's eyes shine with envy and lust, and it would easily fetch a very good price considering the materials used to make it.

Alana looked at it, letting the thin silver chain fall between her fingers, and she let her hand fall to her side. "Serana…" A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks, and she didn't bother trying to hide them.

"You should've killed me when you had the chance, rather than fall in love with me." _'I didn't do anything but hurt you. It was because of me that you ended up exiled from the Volkihar clan, my fault that you got dragged into my mess with the daedra. If you killed me, you'd be better off.'_

Alana hated every day she remained alive.

She pulled on her recently sewn vest and tossed her white shirt into a small basket; she'd find a mountain stream to wash it later on in the week. Right now, she had to find Saoron. Something wasn't right about this situation. Normally, he'd be hovering over her with such fierce protection that would make even a sabre cat jealous. The fact that he wasn't worried her, and a sickening sensation began to settle in the pits of her stomach. _'Where could he be? What if whoever tried to kill me also went after him?'_

She could feel part of herself scolding at her for doubting her friend; she had seen the way he fought firsthand. He could easily handle a lowly assassin in a fight.

But her mind was anything but rational at the moment. Her breathing started to speed up and her undead heart thumped painfully against her chest, sweat pouring from her body. She was beginning to panic at the thought of running out into the ash wastes and finding Saoron's still bleeding corpse. _'Please, don't be dead…please don't!'_

She grabbed Clockwork from its resting place and slid it into her holster, making sure to grab a cloth sleeve to cover her bandages from any prying eyes. _'Something's wrong, and I'm not leaving without some kind of weapon on me.' _

The blonde warrior opened the door to her house to leave and was startled to see Saoron and the captain of the Redoran Guard waiting for her. Her eyes widened and her mind began to race as she tried to think of an excuse. "C-captain, I—"

"Alana, I know who you are," the elite soldier said calmly, his face betraying no anger or malicious intent. His battleaxe was firmly secured on the thick brown leather straps on his heavy bonemold armor, and he put a hand up. "I must say, I was quite surprised to hear such news from Master Saoron here. I had no suspicions that you were the one the people have been taken to calling the Black Swordswoman."

Alana glanced at Saoron, and the Breton looked like he had no choice but to hand over that information. "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters because you have done so much without anyone knowing, choosing to remain anonymous instead of indulging in the rewards," Captain Veleth said smoothly. "In fact, I have a situation that requires someone of your particular talents."

"I'm listening. For now." Alana folded her arms across her chest. "What is it?"

"I'm afraid that the owner of a house outside of Raven Rock has gone missing for several weeks now," Veleth answered. "Thanks to the damned ash spawn threat, I can't afford to send out a patrol to investigate. I'd be very grateful if you could take a look into it for me."

"Who's the owner?" Alana asked.

"A man by the name of Bjornolfr, who lives with his partner Hrodulf," the elf replied. "Funny man, interested in magic and the sort, but a good person. He was supposed to pick up some soul gems from Fethis two weeks ago and never showed up. He's not the type to forget about such things."

"You think something attacked him?" Alana was listening now. Out on the frontier, anything could happen. Reavers haunted every step of Solstheim's shores, and now with the threat of demons and daedra alike, it was very easy for someone to lose their life. _'If it was a demon attack, I'd have heard about it by now. They're anything but subtle.'_

'_Not to mention Vaermina would've gloated about it.' _

She could feel her rage begin to bubble and hiss at the thought of the daedric prince of nightmares and mental torture, boiling and popping like molten rock. She hated her, almost as much as she hated Mephala. Both of them twisted and tortured her for their own purposes, but Mephala meddled in her life much more. It was her who convinced her own friends to stab her in the back and ripped Serana away from her.

"I do." Veleth nodded. "This isn't exactly the city of Blacklight. Anything can happen out here in the ash wastes. This damned island is crawling with reavers, ash spawn, and Azura knows what else. It's not impossible to think that even a studious mage like him fell victim to a reaver's blade. Bastards may be cowards, but they are nasty fighters."

Alana was tempted to scoff at that. She had seen how cowardly the reavers were. Once it began to look like they were going to lose, they would turn tail and flee only to get a crossbow bolt in the spine. They were only dangerous to those who were foolish and alone.

She was alone, but she was much more dangerous that way. It made her vicious.

'_If there are more than a handful of them, then I'll need my crossbow.' _The blonde made up her mind and nodded. "Very well. I'll set out immediately and see what I can find, Captain, in return for nothing but your silence on my identity. I don't want any kind of rewards."

Captain Veleth looked like he was going to argue and insist otherwise. However, Saoron sent him a quick glance that told him to not argue, and he sighed. "As you wish. Saoron and I are going to make repairs to the Bulwark and ward off any ash spawn that attack. I wish you the best of luck, and be careful. Something else is at work here."

'_Be careful. Ha. When have I ever been careful? I always go in sword swinging. I'm honestly surprised I haven't been killed yet.' _"Understood." Alana plucked her crossbow from its resting spot along with a pouch full of bolts and set off away from the two men, sticking to the high ground on Raven Rock's perimeter to avoid detection from the rest of the Redoran Guard. Their captain may have known about her secret identity, but that didn't mean she wanted the rest of them to find out.

Her boots sank deep into the ashy soil, and she hissed in annoyance as she freed herself from the ground's powdery snare. _'Damned ash. Always a nuisance.' _She could still see the smoke billowing from the top of Red Mountain in the distance, spewing ash and molten rock onto the rest of the island of Vvardenfell. How many decades had the damned volcano been erupting for now? Surely it should've stopped by now; Alana was tempted to think some sort of deity or daedra was behind the eruption.

She heard movement in the ash to her left and the blonde turned her head to see a large brown insect spring up from the ground, shaking ash from its dull exoskeleton. It was an ash hopper, an insect native exclusively to Morrowind. It bounded towards her with its spring-like legs, and Alana's crossbow snapped up in a heartbeat. A single bolt struck it in the center of its body, and the force of the bow tore it in half.

'_Pitiful. Barely even worth my time.' _She scoffed as she trudged through the ash, the winds beginning to pick up. _'Damn, another ash storm is on its way. We're going to be spending a long time digging ash out from around our houses come daybreak.'_

If there was one thing Alana absolutely despised about living on Solstheim, it was the constant ash storms. It was a damned nuisance having to shovel ash away from her house every time one came. She'd much rather deal with one of Skyrim's blizzards; being a Nord she at least had an inborn resistance to the cold. Not to mention there was something rather calming and serene about watching it snow like it did in Windhelm.

She felt a pang in her heart at the thought of her homeland. She kept wanting to visit the Palace of the Kings, if only to talk to Ulfric. Skyrim's High King was doing a damned good job; he had already attended a peace meeting with representatives from Cyrodiil to ensure Skyrim's independence, and with the war over he was able to give his land the full attention she deserved. Skyrim was a harsh mistress, unforgiving to men and mer who didn't respect her native beasts.

'_What would Ulfric do if we met? Would he try and help, or would he sink a dagger into my chest? I'd prefer the latter. Some damned general I was, nearly getting him killed thanks to my mistakes.' _She knew Ulfric was straight forward and blunt. He'd tackle an issue head on like a true Nord rather than try and hide in the shadows like a meek and cowardly assassin. But she couldn't help but feel as though he'd plunge a blade into her back if he got the chance.

'_As he should. You nearly got him killed in the battle for Solitude, or did you forget? All because you fell for the lies of a daedric prince like the little puppet of despair you are.' _A dull pain began to pound in her head, and she rubbed her temples in an attempt to ease it away. _'He'll never forgive you. Not after what you've done.'_

Alana rubbed her stiff shoulder and let her crossbow dangle from the leather straps over her vest. Her enhanced eyesight allowed her to see perfectly in the dark, and she glanced to her right as a pile of ash started to quiver and shake. _'Not more of these damn things.'_

To her surprise, the being that crawled from the ash was humanoid in shape, with glowing red eyes and a strange battleaxe in its ashy hands. _'An ash spawn? This close to the town?' _Alana's eyes narrowed and her hand found the handle of her sword. _'Definitely picked a bad day to try and chug an entire flagon's worth of whiskey.' _

Still, even slightly impaired and recovering from her wounds, she was confident she could dispatch the foul being without getting harmed. "You want a fight? Then let's go." The ash spawn groaned and threw a fireball at her, forcing her to roll to the side. Its battleaxe missed her head by inches, and she hissed as she felt the searing heat pass her by.

Back on her feet, she could sense the powerful fire magic in the makeshift weapon. _'That doesn't look particularly sturdy.'_ It looked brittle to her eyes, and with one vicious swing of her zweihander she shattered it and sent the ash spawn tumbling.

It groaned as it tried to right itself up, and Alana was on it with a snarl. Her sword cut the being in half and it dispersed into thousands of tiny ash particles mixed with a few chunks of ebony and moonstone ore. _'They're made of ore as well as the ashy soil, but something else has to be responsible for these things to become sentient. A mage, perhaps?' _In order to create enough ash spawn to threaten a relatively heavily guarded settlement like Raven Rock, though, the one responsible had to be an extremely powerful necromancer.

She spotted a herd of netch floating over what looked like the covered ruins of an ancient Nordic barrow, and the blonde could hear someone swearing irritably as they dug out ash from the barrow. _'Probably another tomb raider or an adventurer seeking fame. A reaver wouldn't waste his time. Not with a storm approaching.'_

She paid the digger no mind. She could see the outline of a damaged house in the distance, and she picked up her pace. _'There it is.' _Alana jumped down from one of the ashy hills and landed with her sword out, eyes searching for anything hostile. She could sense something was nearby, and she sighed in annoyance when she saw two piles of ash start to quiver. _'Dammit. Not more of these cursed things.' _

Two ash spawn crawled out from the ground, and she clicked on her sword's handle to let the second blade spring free. "I really don't have time for this nonsense."

With both blades pointed behind her she leapt at the two hideous beings, swinging her twin swords in a whirl of silvery steel. Both swords cut through the soft ashy bodies of the ash spawn and sent them back to the soil from which they came. Alana rested the larger of her two swords on her shoulder, sliding the smaller one into the holster for the time being.

The house was mostly in ruins, possibly from being destroyed by the eruption of Red Mountain. The roof was completely gone and only a few bookcases were left unscathed, and for a moment the blonde wondered if she was in the wrong spot. _'This place looked abandoned. I find it hard to believe that anyone has lived here in decades.' _

She spotted another one of the East Empire lockboxes, meaning the owner must have had connections to the East Empire Company. _'There's nothing here. No signs of life, nothing. This has to be the wrong spot.' _

She was about to turn around and head back to Raven Rock when she spotted a cellar door. It was covered by a thin layer of ash, and she could see several sets of footprints leading to and from it. _'Clever. No one would think to look in the basement.'_

Alana pried open the door and jumped down, landing as quietly as she could on the smooth stony floor. She froze when she heard the cold laughter of a pair of reavers, and she hid behind a bookcase to listen to their conversation.

"Listen to this!" The one wearing sturdy bonemold armor laughed and looked at the paper in his hands. "My nights have been unbearable without you here. Please, leave that blasted island at once and return to Solitude."

The other elf was in simple leather armor with a razor sharp elven sword on his belt. "Hahaha! Wait a second…do you hear that? Sounds like those damned ash spawn are back."

"They'll take care of the other Nord if he comes back." The first waved his hand dismissively. "Which one did we put in the tunnel?"

"Don't know. Nords all look the same to me." The second shrugged. "I'll keep watch when the storm passes over, in case any of those stupid soldiers come around."

Alana chose then to rise from her cover with her large sword. "I'm afraid that won't be necessary anymore."

The two elves jumped up from their seats, sending bottles of mead spilling onto the floor and shattering. They went to draw their swords, only to fall to Alana's massive blade. Her sword swung in three arcs, and their limbless corpses fell to the ground before they could even scream.

'_Pitiful. Even a normal bandit in Skyrim would've put up a much better fight.' _Alana wiped a smear of blood splatter from her cheek and strode over to a single bookcase with wind gushing out from it. She pushed it to open a secret passageway, and she was surprised to see dwemer pipes and machines running along the rock. _'What the hell is this place?'_

She eventually reached a small chamber with an unusual dwemer device, and she looked down to see a young man cloaked in robes bleeding badly from several grave wounds. He looked up at her as she approached, and he smiled weakly. "Y-you took care of them…thank you." This was Bjornolfr, and he was in very bad shape.

He gasped in pain, clutching a wound in his chest, and Alana crouched down to try and find a way to keep him from dying. "Hang on a little while longer. You'll be fine."

The mage shook his head, grimacing. "N-no…no I won't. I do not fear death, or darkness. Sovngarde awaits me. B-but thank you…thank you for coming…"

His trembling body stopped moving, and his head fell on the ground limp. He was dead.

Alana stood up from her kinsman, and she felt a hollow sense of bitterness and guilt. "I'm sorry…" _'I should've gotten here sooner. If I came earlier, perhaps he would still be alive. But I was too late.'_

'_Yes you were. You were too late, just like how you were too late to save them. Too late to save Festus, Veezara, and Gabriella. And just like them, he will never forgive you. He screamed alone for days, cursing you.'_

'_Get out, get out!' _Alana seized her head with both hands, sinking to her knees as her head pounded. _'Just stop!'_

That dagger on Bjornolfr's corpse was looking very, very friendly to her right now. She was tired of her mind tearing apart. She just wanted for her own suffering to end, no matter how it was done.

Alana got to her feet with a wobble, and with her head down she left the Nord's body behind and climbed up back up the ladder leading above.

A large group of ash spawn were waiting for her, staring at her with hungry glowing eyes, and Alana's vision started to turn the darkest of red as she reached for her sword.

_**A/N: Annnnd that's it for now! Honestly, I always found Solstheim to be a very interesting place to explore. A lot of the small locations have some really cool shit to find, such as Hrodulf's House. I think the next one will focus more on the March of the Dead quest, as well as a few extras (clearing the ancestral tomb and finding that book for the councilor's wife). Hopefully I keep my head intact for me to actually write it. **_

_**C. Strife #5371**_


	6. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 6

_**A/N: So, chapter six. Not too long of a note apart from a small announcement of this arc about to come to a close within two more chapters, and a warning for a suicide attempt. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 6***

Cindiri Arano sighed as she sat down at the dinner table with a cup of Geldis' fresh sujamma in hand. She glanced out the dusty window briefly to see if her husband was going to be home in time for dinner for once and was once again disappointed to see that he was still working past the hour.

Ever since the ebony mine had been reopened thanks to Saoron's discovery, escorting the shipments of ebony to the docks had become Adril's new order of the day. It was tiresome and quite a walk back and forth across town for him, and he never stopped worrying about the town possibly being attacked by reavers and Azura knows what else.

Cindiri wished she had her bloody folio to read to pass the time while she waited on him. She had sent a special copy of The Lusty Argonian Maid to the First Edition Bookshop in the Imperial City to be rebound several months ago, and yet it still hadn't returned. She was beginning to think that some kind of horrible disaster had struck or perhaps it had been lost on the voyage back from Cyrodiil.

The dunmer ran a hand through her luscious hair and huffed in frustration the door to the Morvayn manor opened and in stepped not her husband, but the First Councilor himself. "Hello, Lleril." She tried her best not to let her irritation at her husband's tardiness seep into her tone lest the councilor told him. The last thing she wanted to do was have yet another pointless argument with Adril. The man was as hardheaded as he was loyal.

"Cindiri." Lleril gave her a friendly smile and took a seat across from her, rolling up the sleeves of his elegant blue robes to prevent them from trailing into their dinner. "Adril running late again, I presume?"

"Yes." Cindiri nodded and sighed in defeat, looking at the food she had prepared. "He spends all his time focusing on everything else. I may be his wife, but at the same time I may as well be invisible to him. I can't remember the last time the two of us were able to spend an evening enjoying each other's company."

"I'm sorry," Lleril apologized. "I shouldn't have asked him to be my right hand man after I was elected to be the councilor of Raven Rock."

"It isn't your fault." Cindiri prodded at the roasted beef with her fork, not feeling too hungry while her husband was out doing Azura knows what. "You two have been through a lot together, and I'm sure he was the only one you could trust at the time of your election. As Adril so often puts to me, we all left a part of ourselves behind when we left our homeland. All we can do is make the most of what we have. That said, I did want to talk to you about our food supply. Gjalund can only care so much on each journey, and our population is only continuing to increase with each passing year."

"Indeed." Lleril nodded and cut a piece of meat, popping it into his mouth. He let out a quiet hum of content before swallowing, giving her an apologetic smile. "I'll speak with Garyn in the morning about increasing our crop production when I have a chance. Looks like we'll be feasting a little more on ash yams this year, I'm afraid."

To most nobles, the thought of eating food that was practically fit for peasants was disgraceful. Yet for Cindiri, it reminded her of home, of Vvardenfell. It brought back fond memories of her sitting down with her husband and sharing the news of how their day had gone.

"No need to apologize." The dunmer woman flashed him a smile. "Garyn's always been our most important supply of food since he came to Raven Rock, and I'm sure he'll understand." She helped herself to a mouthful of sujamma, humming to herself at the taste. "Have you heard any news lately regarding that folio I had sent to the Imperial City?"

"Not a word, I'm afraid." Lleril shook his head. "The ship should've gotten here a week ago at least. I suppose they're simply being delayed by bad weather; it's not uncommon for storms to brew on the Sea of Ghosts this time of year."

He took a sip of his own beverage, humming. "Delicious. Is this Geldis' brew?"

"Yes. I went by to pick some up for tonight," she answered. "I figured I could afford to spend some extra coin, now that Raven Rock Mine is reopened."

"Good old Geldis always does what he can to keep our spirits up, even when times are not their best. And our vision hazy." Lleril laughed.

Cindiri pursed her lips and took another sip of her drink, blinking as the alcohol slowly started to affect her. Unlike the soldiers and that blonde Nord who spent seemingly all her time in the cornerclub, she was not able to handle her drink that well. It wasn't something she built up a tolerance for.

The door to the manor opened again, and this time it was her husband. Cindiri looked up as Adril entered, covered in sweat and huffing a little. "Where have you been all this time?"

Adril looked completely disheveled; his sweaty hair was unkempt and a few black stains marked his usually clean brown robes. "Forgive me, my dear. One of the workers misplaced a crate of ebony in the mine and it took us a few hours to find it. Otherwise I would have been home in time."

Cindiri slowly felt her initial irritation wear off while her husband rolled up his sleeves and took a seat next to her. She found it hard to stay mad at him for long, especially when he had provided so much for her and was the sole reason why she was amongst Morrowind's nobility in the first place.

"Next time you're going to be late, please have one of the Redoran Guard come find and tell me," she requested. "I don't like worrying about you possibly being killed in the mines. They're still dangerous, even after these years."

"Don't fret, my dear. Old Crescius has been made the foreman of the mine and has taken to making them as safe as possible," Adril reassured her. Damn him, why was he always so calm while she was frantic with worry? Every day he went outside, she was afraid that she was going to stumble across his bleeding corpse in the ash.

"Still, this isn't the city of Blacklight," Cindiri fretted. "Out here on the frontier, anything can happen to you."

"My dear, you have always been paranoid ever since we left Vvardenfell," Adril chided gently. "I know you may never see this colony in the same light as I do, but it is our home and we will be safe here." There was that gentle rebuke that somehow always managed to sting more than when he raised his voice at her.

Cindiri flinched for she knew he was right. She never did like settling way out here on the frontier, not when she was born and raised in the capital of the dunmer homeland. She would've liked to argue, but as wife to a councilor she knew what was to be expected of her.

Lleril flashed her a sympathetic glance and stood up from the table, wiping his hands and face with a clean cloth. "Thank you for dinner, Cindiri. If you will excuse me, I'll attend to the matters at hand and see if I can get Captain Veleth to send out a patrol to find out what happened to your folio."

"Thank you, Lleril," Cindiri murmured. "I appreciate it a lot."

Lleril decided to retire to his chambers for the night, walking up the spiral staircase with a small smile and his cup of sujamma in hand. "Don't worry, Cindiri. Things will start to look up here in Raven Rock, I can feel it. Our mine is open, and the shops are busy again. We'll have some support from House Redoran in no time at all."

It had been many years since she saw the councilor with as much optimism as he now had. Not even the arrival of the Severin family provided so much hope for him.

Cindiri let out a soft hum and took a sip of her drink, wishing she could share that optimism. "I do hope you're right, old friend."

Adril tucked into his meal, digging in with as much grace as a famished fox. If he weren't her husband, she would've scolded him on his manners. Instead, she swallowed her irritation at his lack of respect and put down her fork. "Have you heard anything in regards to my folio, my love?"

Adril swallowed what was in his mouth and shook his head. "Regrettably, no. I have informed Captain Veleth of the matter, and he assured me that he would have someone look into it when he has the time. Although he never specified if he was hiring some lowly mercenary or sending his men."

A soft knock sounded on the door and in stepped one of the Redoran Guard, his bonemold helmet in his hands. "Councilor Arano? A sailor from the ship the Strident Squall is here. I don't believe he is going to survive."

Cindiri was up in an instant. The Strident Squall was the name of the ship that was supposed to be carrying her folio from the Imperial City. "What happened?"

"The ship got caught in a storm and ran aground," the soldier explained. "Poor bastard crawled on his hands and knees all the way here."

Cindiri and Adril both left the remains of their dinner behind and followed the guard to the Bulwark, where an Imperial man sat bleeding against the wall. His shirt was stained crimson and he looked up at them with a pained grimace, blood bubbling from his lips. "Y-you came…thank the Nine…"

"What happened? Where's the rest of your crew?" Adril asked.

"Dead, all of them," the sailor replied, clutching his chest. "T-the storm…it blew us off course. C-captain…he tried to take a shortcut. D-didn't work…" He let out a pained cough, letting his head fall back. "G-get the cargo before…before the damned reavers do…"

His head slumped and he was dead before he finished toppling over into the ashy ground.

Cindiri felt a sickening pit in her stomach. She had never witnessed someone die right in front of her before in the seventy years she had been alive, and she turned her head away to prevent herself from vomiting. It definitely was not a pleasant experience, and she wondered how the hell the soldiers had the stomach to witness such a thing.

Adril bowed his head in respect to the fallen, and the seconds that passed by felt like an eternity. He lifted his head and turned to the two Redoran Guards who stood witness. "You know what must be done. Burn the body and scatter the ashes. He took great courage in coming here to warn us in his state and deserves the honor."

"As you command, Councilor." The two soldiers picked up the sailor's still warm body and carried it over to the Temple of the Reclamations to let Elder Othreloth handle the ceremony of presenting the body to fire.

Cindiri turned to her husband in worry. She had confirmation that the cargo was still intact and in very real danger of being lost to the bloodthirsty reavers. "You heard him; my folio is onboard and the reavers are going to be closing in on the wreck."

"I know, dear. But right now the captain is out with Master Saoron fighting off the ash spawn by the remains of the Attius farm," Adril replied. "Until he returns, I cannot afford to send out anyone to retrieve it."

The dunmer woman growled in frustration, mainly because she knew he was right again. With Captain Veleth and Saoron outside of the Bulwark, the town was vulnerable to any kind of attack and it wouldn't be wise to send out a patrol until at least one of them returned. "Fine. I'll go and finish cleaning up dinner."

She hated this damn island more and more with each day and couldn't wait for the day she could finally return to her home.

* * *

Alana panted heavily as she leaned on her sword for support, the blade sinking into the ashy soil. Sweat dripped down her body and every breath of air she took did nothing to quell the fury that boiled beneath her skin. The powdery remains of ash spawn lay littered around her, and she grimaced as she felt one of the many burn wounds on her skin. _'Dammit…' _

She snarled in disgust and focused her healing on the burns, taking the sharp sting out of them. The blonde was furious at herself for allowing such pitiful creatures to land blows on her, even if she had been outnumbered ten to one. She was the woman who slew one hundred of the Empire's finest soldiers in a single night, not a lowly mercenary who turned tail the minute a fight wasn't going her way.

Alana spat out a mouthful of ash, throwing as much contempt in the act as she could muster. _'At least these bastards can't attack Raven Rock anymore. That should take some pressure off of Veleth's shoulders.'_

'_But that wasn't what he asked you to do, was it? He asked for you to make sure Bjornolfr was safe, and you failed. Just like you failed to save the Brotherhood. How you failed to save Serana.' _

"Get out…" Alana's arm trembled and hot tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she was reminded of her greatest failure. "Now…"

'_Or what? What could you possibly do now? You're nothing. You are worth less than the dirt beneath their feet. No one would care if you died. No one. They'd hold a grand feast celebrating your demise and commit unspeakable atrocities to your remains. Because you deserve it.'_

Alana's head burned, and she clutched at her head to drown out that cold laughter. "Stop it..."

'_Lie all you want, but you want it. You want to die. The desire to take a dagger and plunge it into your chest burns like a hunger. Darkness flocks to you always, Alana. You can never escape its grasp, no matter how much you want to. A puppet can never be free of its master.'_

A shadowy black blob appeared in front of her, stepping out of an Oblivion portal. The beast was somewhat reminiscent of a dragon, but its two heads were long and serpentine with no trace of eyes on its smooth green flesh. Rows and rows of razor sharp teeth caked with blood and grime lined its small jaws, and the blonde's eyes widened in horror as it let out a deathly shriek. Her blood froze in her veins and she found herself unable to move, paralyzed with fear of the monster she saw before her. _'I-I can't move!'_

It lunged towards her and Alana squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for her death. She didn't even make an effort to try and rip her sword from the ground. _'So…this is how it ends for me. Torn apart by a demon that was spawned as a result of my past mistakes. Fitting.'_

She heard the sounds of the demon rapidly approaching as it charged her and she was ready to be sent into Oblivion. However, the next thing she heard was rapidly approaching footsteps and the loud clang of one of the demon's heads hitting a solid steel shield.

Alana opened her eyes and saw Saoron struggling to hold the beast back with his shield. His teeth gnashed in a snarl of defiance and with one mighty heave he forced it back with a hard bash. "Alana! Snap out of it!"

Alana blinked and tore her sword free, gripping it tight. She leapt towards it with a vicious swing of her sword, but this demon was much more agile than its bulk suggested. It leapt back with grace and lashed out with its spiked tail, and she let out a pained gasp as it tore through her leg. She fell to one knee and was thrown back by another hit from its tail. She landed in a heap, coughing out a mouthful of blood, and wobbling back up to her feet.

Saoron landed next to her, and he spat out a mouthful of ash and blood. "Damn. This is no ordinary daedra. What the hell is this thing?"

"A demon, spawned by Vaermina," Alana replied with a wince as she helped Saoron up to his feet. "Damn things are stronger than any kind of daedra I've fought." _'Not even dremora warlords have the strength of these monsters.'_

'_And it's because of me they're as powerful as they are.' _She ducked under another lash of its tail and raised her sword to block an attack from one of its two heads. She stepped to the side and went to sever it from its long neck, but the second head forced her back before she could deliver the blow.

"I'll distract it." Saoron wiped his mouth and let his hands become cloaked with lighting magic. "Take its heads off."

Alana nodded, and the brunet started casting his magic to get the beast's attention. The first two lightning bolts smashed into the demon's hide, and it shrieked in fury before lunging at him. Saoron raised his shield up and timed a perfect power bash, slamming the tough steel against its head. "Now!"

Alana raised her sword up and swung. The heavy sword tore through ribbons of flesh, and the demon screamed in pain as she severed one of its heads. The neck it was attached to thrashed uncontrollably, spilling chunks of flesh and blood from the jagged wound left behind. Alana ducked under a swipe from its clawed feet and clicked on the handle of her zweihander to spring the second sword into her hand. "You're done for."

Saoron's lightning spell caught the demon in the face and it let out another pained shriek. It charged him in desperation, and Alana struck again. Her sword cut through the demon's right shoulder, fatally wounding it.

It fell on its side with a scream, and Alana spat out a mouthful of blood as she stalked towards the downed demon. "Any last words before I send you back to Oblivion?"

Its sightless head fixed on her and its jaws parted to speak in a very high pitched voice that would've frozen the blood of anyone else. "Your kind…has no place in this world. An abomination of the very gods—"

"Rhetorical question." Alana's sword came down through its skull and she twisted the heavy blade to finish it off. The demon's body spasmed for a bit before it finally stopped, and Alana pulled her sword out of its head and stepped back.

The demon's body began to dissolve into a pool of black acid just like the one the blonde had killed a few days ago, and she fell to her knees and let the sweat roll off of her like a heavy rain. She panted heavily and attempted to recover her breath, wobbling back up to her feet. Right now, Clockwork's massive blade felt much heavier than it usually did, and it took her a few extra seconds before she was capable of lifting her sword again.

Saoron was using one of his healing spells to close the cuts on his muscular arms, looking at the puddle of acid with his lip curled in disgust. "So, that's what Vaermina is capable of creating now. She's much more powerful than I thought."

He approached her after he finished taking care of his injuries. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Alana wiped the corner of her mouth, glaring at the spot where the demon dissolved. "Why did you come after me?"

"Well when you didn't show up after four hours, Captain Veleth got worried," Saoron replied evenly. "And it's a good thing I came when I did. You looked like an elk frozen in a saber cat's glare."

He took a sniff of the air around her, and his amber gaze became firm. "Alana…were you drinking again before you set out?"

"No." The lie rolled off her tongue easily. The brunet Breton didn't buy it and he merely folded his powerful arms. Alana rolled her eyes and looked away, feeling a twinge of shame. "Fine, maybe I did have a flagon's worth of whiskey at once, but so what? Why in Oblivion does it matter to you?"

"Because you're my friend, and I care about you," Saoron replied, trying to prevent frustration from seeping into his tone. "You know damn well you shouldn't drink that stuff the way you do."

"Ha. Don't make me laugh. Friends don't drag you into their mess." Alana looked down at the ground, rubbing her sore arm. She pulled Clockwork free from her holster and looked at its wide silver blade for a few moments before looking him in the eye and tossing it onto the ground at his feet. _'I've had enough of this. Better by his hand than someone else's.' _

It fell with a clatter and he looked at the zweihander for a few moments. "Alana, what are you doing?"

"I want you to do it while you have the chance." Alana felt her cheeks become wet, and she swallowed a painful lump that had grown in her throat. "Please…"

"Alana…"

"DO IT!" Alana never raised her voice at him before, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to take her sword in hand and run her through with it. "Kill me, please…"

Saoron looked at her and at the sword lying on the ground at his boots, and he picked it up. Alana closed her eyes, waiting for the searing pain followed by darkness. _'I'm sorry, Father. But it needs to be done. Better done by him than by Vaermina or Mephala.'_

However the next thing she felt was a calloused hand on hers, forcing her to take the handle of her sword. She opened her eyes to see Saoron holding her hand, giving her weapon back to her. "No."

His voice was quiet but firm, and he put both hands on her shoulders. "You don't know what you're saying. You know you want to live, to keep your promise to her. And truth be told, there was another reason I wanted to find you. Captain Veleth and I finally found out where the damned ash spawn are coming from."

Alana took her sword, and for a moment she debated on taking it and slicing her throat open. _'It was easy for me to promise Serana I'd live for us. She didn't walk the path I did, do the things I did.'_

"Where are they coming from?" she asked with a hoarse cough, ash getting in her throat.

"Apparently, they're being sent by General Falx Carius," Saoron answered. "He was the Imperial commander of the garrison at Fort Frostmoth, but the records indicate he was killed two hundred years ago when Red Mountain leveled the fort."

That got Alana's attention more than she initially thought it would. "We're dealing with a necromancer then, and a damned powerful one at that." _'I was right in my assumption after all. It is the doing of a necromancer.' _

"Exactly my thoughts." Saoron nodded and reached for his glass sword, looking at the refined malachite. "Well, if there's one thing I hate almost as much those who abandon their friends, it's those who would desecrate the bodies of those who had lived with honor."

He pointed to a crumbling tower not too far away from them. "That's the fort. How do you want to do this? Go in loud or take them by surprise?"

Alana looked at him as if he grew a second head and disconnected the second sword from Clockwork. "You already know my answer." _'And maybe, you'll be lucky enough to pierce my heart afterwards. You don't need me.' _

Saoron let out a quiet laugh and spun his sword in his hand. "Fine by me. Let's get a move on then."

Alana fell in behind him as they approached the crumbling ruin of Fort Frostmoth and she stopped when she heard a familiar buzzing sound. She put her hand up to signal for him to wait and she looked around cautiously. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

Saoron stopped to listen and he nodded after a few seconds, letting his free hand become cloaked in an Ice Spike spell. "I do. It sounds like a spriggan is nearby. Didn't think any of them would be alive on the island after Red Mountain erupted."

"Me neither. At least not around this part of Solstheim," Alana agreed. She couldn't see any trace of the unusual forest being amongst the scorched trees, but the buzzing still grew louder and louder. _'Dammit, where is it? Did it already turn invisible?'_

She caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and she ducked as a burning hot hand swung at her head. Alana spun around with her sword swinging and she saw their assailant. It looked like any other spriggan, save for its ashy red skin. It screeched and flames came out of the palms of its hands, and the Dragonborn jumped back out of reach. "What the hell is wrong with this thing!?" _'Since when can spriggans use fire spells!?'_

"I don't know! I'd say it was changed from the eruption!" Saoron yelled back. A jagged spike of ice struck the spriggan in the chest and it let out a scream of pain, falling to the ground. With his eyes frosty Saoron cast another spell, a second spike of ice hitting it in the head. The spriggan's body burst into flames, and Alana shielded her eyes from the blast. Once the flames subsided, Saoron went over to inspect the body.

"Interesting," he murmured, picking up a piece of burnt spriggan wood that had fallen off from its host. He tapped it with the tip of his finger before putting it in his alchemy pouch. "Think I'll take it over to Milore later to see what we're dealing with. Never know what we could use it for."

Alana didn't say anything and instead chose to prod at its body with her foot. It was surprisingly brittle; one gentle poke was enough for the body to start crumbling. _'This island continues to surprise me more and more each day. Wonder what other secrets it holds?'_

'_Not that I'm going to live enough to uncover them.' _If Saoron wasn't willing to do her the honor of killing her, then she'd take matters into her own hands.

She would do the deed herself.

Alana was terrified of the idea of taking her own life. But she couldn't see any other way for her to get what she so desperately yearned for. _'It has to be done. I have to die, for the world to continue surviving.' _

The blonde vampire fought back a sob as she trudged through the thick ash, ducking under the burning limb of a tree as she followed Saoron to the fort. She could see a boat anchored at the pier and patrolling the tower were two of the wretched ash spawn.

"Get down," Saoron hissed. The two dropped down on their stomachs and the Breton frowned as he observed Fort Frostmoth. "Hmm. We have one up on the far tower, and who knows how many are behind the main gates. The two across from us need to be dealt with, but that sentry above will alert the others if we don't take it out."

Alana reached for her crossbow and slid a bolt into it. "I'll take it down."

"Think you'll make that shot from this distance?" Saoron whispered.

"Only one way to find out." Alana took aim, squinting at the ash spawn on top of the far tower. She took a deep breath to focus on it and fired on her exhale. The bolt soared through the air and struck the ash spawn directly between the eyes. _'Bull's eye.' _

Saoron let out a quiet whistle beside her as the ash spawn tumbled from its perch in a pile of ash and ore. "Nice shot. And the others aren't even aware of the attack. So far so good."

Alana slid another bolt into her weapon, taking aim at the one by the docked ship as it was closest. A single shot later and it too was sent back to the ash from whence it came. The second sentry across from them was now on alert thanks to seeing its companion suddenly collapse and it summoned a fiery sword in its hand.

"That one knows something's up. Take it out quick, before it alerts any others in the area," Saoron murmured.

Alana fired a third steel bolt, and the abomination was no more. "We're clear."

The two got off of the ashy ground, wiping some of it off the front of their clothes, and they headed to the fort's front gates. It was eerily quiet, and Alana's hand reached for the handle of her sword. "Something's not right. It's quiet. Too quiet."

"I agree." Saoron's own sword was up and the two slowly moved towards the front of the fort. "Be on your guard."

Alana opened her mouth to reply when she felt the ground tremble and she sank her heavy sword into the ground to steady herself. "An earthquake!?"

A spot in the middle of the fort's courtyard began to bubble and pop, and out from a column of ash appeared a being neither of them had seen before. It was an ash spawn as tall and bulky as a frost atronach with plates of rock acting as armor on its shoulders and chest. A massive fiery red hammer was in its hands and it groaned before taking a swing at them.

Alana dodged the blow and let her lips part with a crash of thunder. **"Fus Ro Dah!" **The powerful blast of magic did little to harm it; it merely stumbled back, far too large to be affected by the Shout.

It recovered quickly and took another swing. The hammer met Saoron's shield and the brunet struggled to keep his foot, beads of sweat rolling down his face as he pushed it back and slashed across its chest. The tough malachite barely even scratched through the ash giant's torso and it slammed its foot down, forcing Saoron back.

Alana caught him before he ended up in the ocean and hefted him back onto his feet. "Any plans?"

"Keep moving and try to slow it down." Saoron spat out a mouthful of ash. "Use ice magic, if you can." He holstered his sword for a moment to cast both Ebonyflesh and Frost Cloak, covering himself in an aura of ice.

Alana opened her mouth again to use another Shout. **"Fo Krah Diin!" **The blast of icy magic struck the ash giant and ice began to slowly creep up its ashy limbs. A pair of frozen spears and hit it in the chest, puncturing the tough rocky armor.

It groaned in anger and swung its hammer again, and this time Alana's sword met the handle. With a growl she broke the weapon, and her follow up swing cut through its arm. The limb fell onto the ground and dissolved into a pile of ash and it roared in pain. Its remaining hand went to grab the blonde and Saoron struck, having snuck behind it. With a loud battle cry the Breton's glass sword sank into its body and the ash giant's glowing red eyes widened before it sank to its knees, the blade protruding from its chest.

Saoron removed his sword with a pant and Alana finished it off with one vicious swing of her zweihander. The heavy blade split its head in half to the chin and Alana panted for breath as the ash giant started to crumble into particles of dust. The damn thing was stronger than she initially thought it was, forcing her to use her Shouts.

Still, it wasn't as difficult as fighting demons or dragons, both of which were much more difficult to handle alone. She had been very lucky that Saoron had come to find her earlier; she wasn't beating that demon by herself.

Alana fused her swords together, feeling a powerful source of magic coming from the fort. _'There's strong magic here, and it's not from that ash giant. It doesn't feel daedric.'_

'_Still. Can't dismiss it yet.'_

The front door was open slightly and Alana could see a trail of footprints leading into the fortress. Someone had been here, and recently.

She looked at Saoron and he nodded. "Don't worry. I'm watching your back." His two spells wore off and he drew his longsword. "This ought to be simple."

Upon entry, Alana could see that Fort Frostmoth had indeed suffered severe damage from Red Mountain's eruption. The back walls were crumbling and part of the main tower had collapsed into the floor, brick and stone lying in heaps.

Alana followed the foot prints down the hall to her right, pushing aside vines and roots that had grown from the ruined ceiling. _'This fortress is a mess. I'm surprised anyone bothered coming here. Then again, that never stopped necromancers from using filthy caves as their hideouts in Skyrim.'_

She swatted away at a thick cobweb with a snarl of disgust. It clung to her shoulder, refusing to release her from its sticky snare, and she growled before she freed herself. A trail of wispy string was left behind her, and the blonde stopped when she saw a pair of ash spawn standing with their backs turned. _'Perfect. That's all I need.' _

The vampire drew her sword and separated the two blades, putting the heavier of the two in her non-dominant hand. Alana had been trained to fight with her weapon in either hand, but never had she really practiced dual wielding in such a manner. She only picked up the skill after finding Clockwork and seeing that the sword could be split in two.

With the swords raised high she leapt at the unsuspecting ash spawn, swinging both blades. The ash spawn didn't even have time to turn around before the aetherium treated swords cut through their ashy bodies and turned them into piles of dust.

Alana caught her breath and Saoron went over to inspect the door they were guarding. "It's locked. I don't think even you could pick it." He gave the handle a tug to prove his point; the door simply was not going to budge. At least not in a conventional way.

Alana combined the two swords and took up a stance. "Out of the way." _'I could break my way through.'_

Saoron backed away from the door and once he was a safe enough distance away, Alana swung with every bit of strength in her body. The sword broke through the door and Alana fell to her knees with a loud gasp. Doing that had used up a lot of her strength and she clutched her side as she got back up to her feet. "Door's open."

Saoron looked like he wasn't sure whether to thank her or sigh in exasperation as he stepped through the splintered remains.

Waiting for them was a man in Imperial armor, but on closer inspection his eyes were pure white without pupils. A strange glowing stone was in his chest and he reached for the massive warhammer on his back. "Fort Frostmoth will never fall! Long live the Empire!"

"The Empire is dead. As are you." Alana held her sword at the ready and braced herself for battle. "Your end is here."

"Men, attack the invaders!" the undead general yelled. Several ash spawn rose from the ground on his command and he leapt at Alana with a vicious swing of his hammer. The head of it met Clockwork's wide blade and Alana grimaced as she absorbed the hit.

She could sense the powerful enchantments on the weapon and she jerked her head over to Saoron. "Take care of the ash spawn! This one is mine!" She clicked on the handle and sprung the second sword into her hand, taking a swipe at Carius.

Carius blocked the blow and spun his hammer around to try and catch her in the chest. The hammer met the zweihander again and the general hissed in fury. "Damn you. You're skilled, for a woman. But you are no match for the Empire. You will be crushed like the rest of them."

"You wish I was a normal woman." Alana gritted her teeth and forced him back with a heavy downward swing. Carius managed to block the strike but he still stumbled from the force, his hammer falling from his hands.

He reached for the weapon to defend himself, but the blonde's swing of her second sword impaled the man through the chest. Carius let out a pained gasp and he looked down at the sword sticking out of his body. "I've…I've failed…"

Alana withdrew her blade and rebuilt her sword, resting it on her shoulder. The ash spawn he was commanding suddenly disintegrated; without him giving them orders, they would no longer be a threat to Raven Rock. It was over. Now, there was only one thing left for her to do.

"It's over. It's finally over." Saoron put his hand on her shoulder, wiping sweat and ash from his face. "We better head back to Raven Rock and tell Captain Veleth of the news."

"You better get going, then." Alana turned her back and climbed the ladder to her right. She soon found herself standing on the very top of the tower and she looked at Red Mountain across the sea.

"_Do it. You know you want to. Do it now and rid the world of its poison." _

'_I will...' _Alana's undead heart thumped painfully in her chest, threatening to burst out of her body, and she took a few steps closer to the edge. _'I have to.' _

"Alana, what in Oblivion do you think you're doing?"

The blonde turned around to see that Saoron had followed her up, and she gave him a sad smile. "Doing what needs to be done. I'm tired of seeing the ones I care about get hurt because of me. You've been a good friend to me. But it's time I took matters into my own hands."

She took a step back, feeling the hard stone slowly starting to turn to ash the further she went towards the edge. "Goodbye…"

She closed her eyes and let herself fall.

"NO! ALANA!"

_**A/N: I know. I'm an asshole for ending this chapter this way. But honestly, the additions I had previously made to it didn't feel like they fit in this chapter. I'll save it for the next update. See you all soon**_

_**C. Strife #5371**_


	7. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 7

_**A/N: Well, here we are people. The second to last chapter of arc 1 is here. We're wrapping up this arc so we can dive right into the next one, Oblivion Walker. But before the fun can start, I needed to fix something that had fucking bothered me about halfway through this chapter. Astrid got her sexy ass bitten by TWO Daughters of Coldharbour, and multiple times. You know damn well she didn't take a cure disease potion or wear a necklace of disease immunity. WTF!? How wasn't she changed!? **_

_**So, that ended with me changing a lot of this story. Don't worry; it'll be a hopefully seamless fix…come on, admit it. Vampire Astrid is fucking awesome.**_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 7***

Nazir was a man who was loyal to his mistress to the point that some would call it obsessive. He followed her lead wherever she went and obeyed her every order without hesitation or a mere thought of objecting. He had told her that several years ago when she became the leader of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim and it remained true to this very day. He worshipped the ground she walked on, always admiring the passion she had for the art of delivering painful deaths to their enemies.

That was the very reason why it hurt him as much as it did to see Astrid in her current state. The once formidable and dangerous assassin was a mere shell of her former self after Alana left, her heart having been completely shattered by that act. Nazir could still remember the day the Brotherhood's few remaining members received Alana's letter. They were all affected differently by the message their former Listener had scribbled, but Astrid definitely took it the hardest. For days after it was like she had died and was replaced by someone else who wore her face as a fleshy mask. She couldn't sleep and refused to eat, only eventually snapping out of it briefly thanks to both Nazir and Babette endlessly pestering her. When she did start eating again, Nazir was hopeful that the dangerous assassin he respected and admired had returned to her former self.

He was wrong, so horribly wrong. Astrid was nowhere to being the person she was over a year ago, when she could reduce even a battle hardened bandit chief into nothing more than a weak whimpering mess with the deadly aura that rippled from her slender frame. Losing Alana and Serana was a very devastating mental and emotional blow to her.

Nazir didn't even want to think what their former Listener was going through at the moment. He had known that her mind was very unstable in the time she was with them, constantly being tormented by the daedric prince of lies, sex, murder, and secrets. The Webspinner was a much more dangerous enemy than he anticipated; even though Alana had been gifted with the blood of one of the Nine Divines, she had been unable to prevent Mephala from dealing a blow so devastating it broke even her.

He could understand why Alana left them the way she did. In her eyes she was nothing more than a monster, a bringer of death and darkness no matter where she went and unable to escape the cold chains that kept her in its clutches. She felt responsible for the death of Festus, Veezara, and Gabriella, unable to stop the Penitus Oculatus from killing them.

The Redguard man sighed in frustration and looked over at the cooking pot, seeing the warm light brown broth bubbling within. _'Dammit. Little more than a year ago, things were looking up for the Dark Brotherhood. We had a Listener who turned out to be the damned Dragonborn of all people and the gold was piling in. Then her past came back to haunt her and everything was cut down mercilessly. Our plan to kill the Emperor fell to pieces and the hunters became the hunted.' _

He didn't blame her once. He knew perfectly well that it wasn't Alana's fault that the grandest assassination plot they had ever planned fell apart. That could be blamed on Arnbjorn becoming envious of the affection displayed between his ex wife and the Listener, prompting him to turn traitor and kill both of them. The rest of everything he blamed on Mephala. He didn't think she'd be powerful enough to show her true form in Tamriel, let alone strong enough to summon a horde of her own spider daedra in an attempt to kill Alana and claim her soul for herself. But she was. She was more than strong enough to manifest in Tamriel and her daedra were able to kill even a pure blooded vampire of Serana's power.

The rich smell of the stew wafted up his nostrils and his stomach let out a longing growl, already anticipating the divine concoction he had started preparing ten minutes ago. He was finally trying his hand at making the famous Potage le Magnifique, though not quite the way Alana had made it during their attempt to assassinate Titus Mede II. He doubted anyone would be pleased with him if he wasted such a valuable resource such as a piece of jarrin root. Nor did he think Astrid would take kindly to him poisoning their remaining members. Poor woman had enough on her mind as it was without worrying about her faithful second in command trying to poison everyone as a sort of incredibly lame joke.

He doubted Astrid would be affected by the poison. She had been bitten by two pure blooded vampires, multiple times. The natural stormy blue of her eyes had gradually started changing to the eerie gold that Alana's were after the Listener left, showing signs that she herself was turning into a vampire. Nazir was honestly surprised that it had taken this long for her to change. Normally mortals bitten by vampires turned into one of them within days, not over a course of several months. Perhaps Astrid's depression had slowed down the changes of her body to the point where processes that should take days took months.

It sure as hell explained why the blonde was suddenly staring at one of their new recruits with a rather predatory stare for the last few months and why she suddenly preferred performing her acts of assassination in the night. _'Usually those bitten by a vampire turn into one in less than a week. I guess Alana leaving her had an impact on more than just her heart. It affected her physically as well.'_

Nazir picked up a wooden plate with neatly chopped carrots on it and dropped them into the stew, using the elven dagger he used to cut them to push them into the broth. The boiling liquid hissed and bubbled in the pot, several drops of it spitting up and landing on his skin. He ignored the burning sensation and instead picked up a wooden spoon to give it a few brisk stirs. The steam rising from the cast iron pot made him sweat under his traditional Hammerfell garbs and the Redguard briefly removed his Alik'r hood to let his skin breathe a little.

'_By Sithis it's hot in here.' _He wiped his forehead with the back of his left arm and continued to stir clockwise for another four complete circles, tapping the spoon on the rim of the pot when he was finished. All he needed to do now was let it simmer for a few more minutes until the carrots were no longer crunchy and he'd have made the Gourmet's signature dish, said to make even battle hardened warriors weep with joy.

Not that he could actually ask the famous chef if that was truth or a mere rumor spread by the masses. Alana had killed him as part of the Dark Brotherhood's plot to assassinate the Emperor. _'I would've liked to meet him at least once or twice. Oh well. I'll see him in the Void when my death finally comes to me.' _He was looking forward to serving Sithis in Void once his end did come. There was no greater honor than being able to serve the Dread Father after a lifetime of faithful servitude. The Dark Brotherhood saved him from himself, something he never forgot.

His previous life as a skooma addicted beggar roaming Hammerfell was something he was not at all proud of. He still remembered the day one of the Dark Brotherhood's assassins came to him after he witnessed them killing their target and instead of asking him to join told him to either walk away or suffer the same fate. For some reason Nazir didn't know at the time, he picked up the victim's fallen scimitar sword and stood his ground, engaging in battle with the deadly assassin. It ended with his eventual loss as the sword shattered, but instead of killing him the assassin smiled. They saw the potential in him and made him an offer. Either he could join the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood or continue to live the life of a drug addict.

He chose his new life without a moment's hesitation and his new life began.

"Babette?" he called out. "Dinner is almost ready. Would you be so kind as to set the table for me?"

The immortal ten year old vampire looked down from her personal alchemy perch and smiled, showing off her fangs. "The Potage? Nazir, you spoil us too much. I'll be right down. I just finished tending to the garden." She still wore her signature red shirt with the black handprint on it, however after Alana left them she started wearing a long black scarf that bore markings on it that resembled the crest of the Nightingales, the shadowy guardians of Nocturnal. Perhaps it was simply to compensate for the much colder climate of the Pale as opposed to Falkreath and the symbols were just coincidence, or maybe it was a way for her to remember their old Listener and her ties to the patron daedric prince of thieves. He never asked why she started wearing it for he felt as though it wasn't his business to know.

A few moments later Babette was downstairs in their new Sanctuary's grand dining hall and she reached into the cupboard to pull out a pile of silver bowls. They were the spoils of a recent assassination to take out the housecarl of Falkreath a few months ago, stolen by their newest addition. The man was gifted in the art of the blade, using perfectly sharpened glass daggers. However, he wasn't on the same level of deadly as either Serana or Alana. The two vampires were responsible for bringing the Dark Brotherhood from the brink of extinction.

Those brief months of prosperity seemed so far away now.

Babette set the table in a hurry and Nazir lifted the pot by the handles, being careful not to burn himself. He set it down on the table and began to pour the stew into the bowls, glancing at the empty spot at the head of their table with a frown. "Where's Astrid? I thought she would have been back from her contract a few hours ago."

Babette pursed her lips before shrugging. "Maybe she stopped to enjoy the city for a bit. Solitude isn't exactly somewhere we get to visit very often."

Nazir didn't think his mistress would meet her end out on a contract. Not after she had survived the attack by the Penitus Oculatus and Mephala's spider daedra. He also didn't believe that she was merely out enjoying the many sources of entertainment the city of Solitude was able to provide.

"Have you noticed the changes Astrid has gone through?" he asked. "She seems…different from how she once was."

Babette had taken a mouthful of the potage and she took a minute to swallow before speaking. "I have. I can smell it. She's no longer human. She has become one of my kind."

"I thought she had," Nazir agreed. "Her eyes have changed color entirely. They are the same shade of gold as Alana's."

Babette winced at the mention of their former Listener and looked down at her bowl. "I wish she didn't leave us. It wasn't her fault things went the way they did."

"I know, my dear." Nazir reached over and patted her head. "She was so strong, stronger than all of us, and yet she was unable to save a person she cared so deeply about. In her eyes, it was her fault and she took the blame. All the death she's seen finally caught up to her." _'Even a soldier like her can only see the death of their friends so many times before it finally starts to haunt them. She was already hurting from it before Serana died.'_

Nazir heard the creak of wood and he turned to see his mistress descend from the ladder. She had taken the secret entrance back inside as opposed to using the front door and the Redguard man felt a sudden uneasiness being around her in her present condition. _'I do hope she was responsible enough to feed while she was out. Sithis knows Alana postponed it for as long as she could.'_

When she turned to look at him he was able to see a slow trickle of blood dripping away from her lips and her bright gold eyes seemed to glow with power. "Apologies for my lateness. I'm afraid I had to make a slight alteration to my ride home. A necessary stop, sadly."

"You had to feed?" Babette asked. Astrid looked surprised for a moment and the much older vampire rolled her eyes. "For Sithis' sake, I can smell it, mistress. Your scent changed. You smell more like Alana than you used to."

Astrid bristled at the mention of Alana's name. A year had done nothing to heal the wounds left behind by her departure and Astrid's bright eyes flashed with fury and pain. "Is that so? I doubt she would actually care that she turned me."

"She left because she didn't want to hurt us!" Babette protested. "Astrid, I—"

"You say she didn't want us to get hurt, but that's exactly what happened, is it not!? She left like a selfish bitch!" Astrid hisses furiously. Nazir took the opportunity to pick up his bowl and excuse himself from the table. He didn't think Astrid would intentionally lash out if she was like how she once was. But her mind was still clouded with the pain of losing both Serana and Alana and she was gifted with powers she didn't have full control over.

He had seen Astrid fight enough times to know how deadly she was; a furious Astrid with the blood of a pure blooded vampire running through her veins was something that was out of a nightmare.

Nazir retired to his quarters for the night, passing by Astrid's room. He stole a glance inside and could make out the lump under the covers that could only belong to that pretty young Nord barmaid who worked in the Windpeak Inn in Dawnstar. The Redguard rolled his old eyes in exasperation. He would follow Astrid into the depths of Oblivion, yet she was going about trying to mend her heart the wrong way. Attempting to replace Alana with a common wench she happened to seduce after both a few drinks and an illusion spell or two thanks to her newfound vampirism was not going to work. He had a feeling Astrid knew it and was just being stubborn anyway.

The only way he could realistically see her getting any better was if she went after Alana, wherever she went. Her letter didn't exactly leave them with a lot of clues as to her whereabouts, but it was obvious that she was no longer in Skyrim. _'She felt as though she needed to disappear. So, where would she go? Hammerfell or Morrowind perhaps? No one knows of her there.' _

He heard the sound of shattering glass followed by a sharp hiss and he rubbed his temples before sitting down in his quarters. His scimitar sword rested on a nightstand and he picked it up, running a hand over the curved blade.

A faint smile etched itself onto his old face as he remembered the first time Alana had seen the weapon. She was simply fascinated by it and actually managed to convince him to let her sharpen it to the point where it would cut through even ebony and glass armor with ease. He never let anyone touch his prized sword before. He was beginning to think that she had used her vampiric seduction powers to convince him.

"Nazir." He looked up and saw Astrid leaning in the doorway, one leg propped up against the smooth wood. "Am I intruding?"

"Not at all, mistress." Nazir shook his head and offered her a chair to sit after her long trip back from Solitude. "How did the contract go?"

"Too easy." Astrid scoffed and shook her head when Nazir offered her a bottle of rum. "It actually didn't feel enjoyable to wipe his miserable existence from the face of the earth."

Nazir poured himself a glass and took a hearty swig, blinking back as the strong alcohol flowed over his tongue. "You miss her, don't you?"

"No." Astrid bristled and gave him a dirty look. He tried to resist smiling. He knew damn well that she was lying. If there was one thing she could never do, it was lie to him. He had an uncanny knack for knowing whether or not someone was telling the truth.

"Liar."

"I'm not—"

"You do want her back. So, what's preventing you from finding out where she is and going after her?" Nazir asked. "You told Lucien Lachance to follow her, for Sithis' sake. You know you can ask him anytime where she's currently hiding. If I know you, you'll be on the first ship out of Skyrim to smack some sense into her. She needs it."

Astrid opened her mouth as if to say something snappy to him, but she shut her jaw and glared at the ground. If looks could kill, the entire Sanctuary probably would've been nothing more than a smoking ruin by now. "I don't abandon my family, Nazir."

"You wouldn't be. You would be on a mission to get the Listener to open her eyes and see that she still has something worth fighting for."

"…you really think I ought to go after her? After she abandoned us?"

"If it'll get that damned barmaid out of your bed, then yes," Nazir answered dryly. "Your attempt of replacing Alana with her is insulting. I know damn well you used vampiric seduction on her. Poor girl's probably been enthralled now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The faintest trace of a smirk flickered onto her lips before she let her hand become cloaked in the purple and black of a conjuration spell. A portal opened and out of it stepped a ghostly man wearing the achingly familiar shrouded robes of the older assassins of the Dark Brotherhood.

Lucien Lachance dusted off his robes, pulling the cowl down to give his mistress a smile. _"Ah, Astrid, my dear. I was wondering when you would call upon me once more. It has been far too long since we last had the pleasure of speaking. You have changed greatly since we last spoke." _

"Lucien." Astrid nodded respectfully to the ancient assassin. "I apologize for not calling on your aid sooner. "My mind was…occupied."

"_And rightfully so. Losing the Listener was a devastating blow. However, the Dark Brotherhood has survived much worse. We will recover in time," _Lucien said simply. _"But I know you don't want to hear me say the words you already know. You desire to find her." _

"I do," Astrid said quietly. "I need to find her. Where is she hiding?"

Lucien was silent for a few moments as if he were trying to hone in on Alana's location, then he answered the question everyone in the Dark Brotherhood had. _"She is not in Skyrim. She has retreated to a land tainted with the influence of the daedric princes of Oblivion. An island to the north of Skyrim, part of Morrowind. Solstheim."_

'_Solstheim? Why would she go there, of all places? It doesn't make any sense.' _Nazir frowned and looked over at Astrid to see if she knew anything about why Alana would go to Solstheim. As far as the Redguard was aware, the island was little more than an ash waste after the eruption of Red Mountain. "Astrid?"

The blonde's bright gold eyes flashed briefly and she swallowed. "Thank you, Lucien. That will be all for now. If I require your assistance, I'll let you know."

"_As you wish, mistress." _Lucien vanished in a pile of ghostly essence and left the two assassins alone.

"You know something, don't you?" Nazir pressed. "You know there is a reason why she went to Solstheim."

"I think so." Astrid's lip curled in anger and she reached for the Blade of Woe that was still resting in its sheath. "That selfish bitch…when I find her, I'm going to smack her for her little stunt."

"Please do. Give her one for me, too," Nazir requested. "I think she could use a good wakeup call."

"Oh, I will," Astrid said with deadly promise. "Selfish little…"

Nazir could only chuckle to himself and he nodded. "Go, my mistress. May Sithis follow you."

He knew as well as everyone else in the Sanctuary that Astrid wouldn't be content with not being able to go after Alana. Now that she knew exactly where she went, Astrid would head out to Solstheim and knock some sense into the Listener. Hopefully she would open her eyes and see that she did more harm leaving than she did staying.

He would give Astrid a few moments to herself. She needed it.

* * *

Astrid felt a surge of anger course through her body as she went off towards her chamber to prepare herself for a journey to Solstheim. _'Damn her. Is she really so arrogant to think Serana's death only affected her? The selfish little bitch.'_

Astrid knew how stubborn Alana was. She never stopped blaming herself for the deaths of her friends and loved ones, even though she knew it was Mephala. But for her to blame herself for Serana's death and act like she was the sole reason she died was arrogant of her. _'She's an idiot. Acting like she's the one responsible for everything is foolish. When will she open her eyes and see that it wasn't her fault?'_

Astrid reached her quarters and glanced at the sleeping form of Katria in her bed. She was showing signs of being enthralled; she spent a lot of time in a trance-like state and was very lethargic.

The leader of the Dark Brotherhood wasn't surprised when she woke up one day and discovered the outside of her eyes were starting to turn gold. She had been bitten several times by two Daughters of Coldharbour without her consuming a potion to cure disease or a necklace with an immunity enchantment; it was only a matter of time before she was changed into a vampire herself.

She didn't anticipate how powerful she felt. She could feel the power coursing through her veins and it was intoxicating. Astrid was always deadly with a blade in hand, but with her newfound vampire powers she felt as though she could do anything she desired. Even though she was transformed against her will, Astrid didn't mind too much. She was now immortal. Even if the sunlight bothered her and she had to feed every few days to prevent herself from going absolutely berserk from bloodlust, she was glad to have her powers.

Though she wouldn't mind having someone who could teach her more about what she was capable of. Babette was powerful for a vampire, but even her abilities paled in comparison to what Alana or even Serana could do as pure bloods of the Volkihar clan.

'_Why would she go to Solstheim? There's nothing there for her, except her contact who gave us the information about the Elder Council Amulet.' _

Astrid picked up an alchemy pouch and strapped it to her left thigh. It never hurt to have supplies when going on a long journey and the blonde knew that the island was a dangerous place. Being unprepared would be unwise, even for someone who was immortal.

"Mistress…?" Katria lifted her head up, her blue eyes glazed over from being Astrid's main source of blood for the last nine months. "Where are you going?"

Astrid turned her back to her and picked up a beautifully crafted ebony sword, twirling it in her hands. It was a little heavier than the Blade of Woe, but she could still call herself an expert with it and she slid it into the leather straps on her back.

"I'm going to get our Listener back."

Astrid was going to hurt Alana when she got her hands on her.

_**A/N: I know. What the fuck, Strife? You're going to cocktease us by not letting us know if Alana's dead until the next chapter? You're a prick. **_

_**I know. XD. I wanted to do one chapter with the Dark Brotherhood for awhile though. They're important. Specifically sexy vampire Astrid XD. I'm making her take up dual wielding too, but not to the extent of Alana's skill with it. Alana's a true master swordsman, whereas Astrid would be at least a tier or two below that. That's not a knock on Astrid's skill at all; it just shows how damned good of a swordsman Alana is.**_

_**C. Strife#5371**_


	8. Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 8

_**A/N: So, my lazy ass is writing more for this. Welcome to the last chapter of Arc 1. I can honestly say that this has been the toughest story for me to write in terms of how it affects me mentally, but I can safely say I powered through to bring you the last chapter of Arc 1. I hope you enjoy.**_

_**Trigger warning for suicide.**_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 8***

Alana could feel herself starting to fall towards the rust colored ocean below and she let her limbs go weak as gravity did its work. _'I'm sorry, Saoron. But it's for the best. I need to die. Otherwise, I'm just going to get you killed.' _The list of people who she befriended and later died trying to protect her weighed heavily on her heart, crushing her like a thick blanket of guilt.

She closed her golden eyes, a few tears spilling out of them like the saltiest of raindrops, and her rapid descent was cut short by a powerful hand clasping firmly around her wrist. _'What? Why?'_

Alana blinked her eyes open and saw that Saoron had sprinted over and grabbed her before she could fall too far. Her body swayed in the wind that came off of the sea and she looked up at her friend as he struggled to heave her back onto the tower. "Saoron…please. Please, let me go."

Saoron didn't answer her. He wasn't able to speak at the moment; his teeth were gnashing together as he lifted his arm back in his continuous efforts to haul her back. The blonde vampire knew what he was doing. He was trying to save her from a fate of endless torment at the hands of Vaermina, but he didn't understand that _this_ was her torment. Every day she lived, she was constantly reminded of her greatest failures by the daedric prince. Vaermina relished in seeing her mind in such a pained and broken state, sending out her minions to try and rip her apart.

If she was dead, she wouldn't have to suffer the living nightmare anymore. She'd be free of it, but more importantly, Saoron would be free of her. He would be able to live without worry of her getting him killed.

Alana felt herself start to get frustrated and angry with her friend as he refused to just release his grip and let her plummet to her doom. "Dammit, Saoron. Let me fall!" She kicked out desperately with her legs, hoping that her momentum would force the brunet into dropping her. Her boots hit the tough stone of the tower but it didn't make Saoron budge an inch.

Instead, that seemed to make him even more determined to save her. His spare hand clasped onto the edge of the tower and sweat rolled down his face as he pulled with every ounce of strength in his muscular body. A loud crack sounded off in Alana's ears as his shoulder dislocated from the strain, but still he did not waver in his determination. If anything the pain gave him strength; his amber eyes narrowed in concentration and he took in a sharp breath of air before heaving with all of his might.

He pulled Alana over the edge of the tower on top of him, rolling off of the blonde to stand up and snap his shoulder back into place. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"Doing what I wanted you to do when you had the chance!" Alana snapped back, scrambling to her feet. "I wanted you to kill me, just to spare you from having to do this!" Hot tears of anger dripped down her cheeks and she glared at the Breton, reaching for her sword. "Step aside. Let me die."

"No." Saoron stood in front of her, blocking her path.

"I said, step away," Alana hissed, her gloved hand gripping the handle of her weapon. "I won't warn you again."

Still Saoron refused to budge. He raised his shield and drew his own sword, taking a deep breath. "I won't let you do this. You'll have to get through me, first."

"Then so be it."

She attacked first with a quick horizontal slash. The aetherium treated sword hit the reinforced steel with a loud clang; if it had been anyone else holding it, they probably would have fallen over completely from the force of the blow.

But Saoron was a master with a shield and kept his footing, barely even budging an inch. He tried to counter her next attack with a power bash that could possibly disarm her, but he rolled to the side when the second sword came into play. Tough malachite hit reinforced steel and his amber gaze burned into her own. "Snap out of this! You don't know what the hell you're doing!"

"I know what I'm doing, and it's what I want!" Alana took another swing at him and again the heavy zweihander met the steel shield. "If you're too much of a damned coward to kill me, then I'll do it myself!"

Her follow up slash with the second sword missed, soaring over his head by inches and ruffling his hair. "How is refusing to kill you cowardly!? You're the coward for wanting to take the easy way out! What happened to the promise you made to Serana!?"

"Don't talk as if you know her!" Alana spat in fury and her swings became all the more savage with her anger coursing through her body. She put Saoron on the defensive, the Breton having trouble moving his shield thanks to her unpredictable fighting style. He grunted as her heavy blade slammed repeatedly onto his shield and she knew she'd wear him out before he wore her down.

Her blade slammed hard into his shield and he only just kept his footing, struggling to push back up. Alana's vision was blurry from the pure sorrow that flooded from her eyes and she let out a sob. "She would hate me! She'd want me to die for what I've done!"

"Dammit Alana, that's not you speaking!" Saoron shoved back with a loud grunt, sweat pouring down his face and body. "When will you see it!? Those thoughts you're having are not your own!"

His shield bash hit with enough force to rip Alana's zweihander from her hand. The heavy blade spun in the air before sinking into the ash that built up on the top of the tower. Alana still had the second sword in hand as well as her bare fist.

With a snarl of pained defiance she swung her fist and caught him in the jaw. The Breton grunted in pain and was forced back, rubbing his cheek for a moment before he brought his shield up to meet the blonde's sword.

"I know what I want," Alana croaked. "And what I want is to die for what I did. Either do it yourself or let me be the one to do it." She brought her knee up to the bottom of her chest and kicked hard, her boot hitting his heavy steel armor. Pain flared from her foot but she ignored the discomfort and swung her sword again.

Saoron's shield couldn't come into play in time and the aetherium treated sword cut through the shoulder guard of his armor. It was a glancing blow, but the razor sharp blade nicked enough of his shoulder to disable his sword arm.

Blood sprayed from the wound and he fell to his knee, his glass sword lying on the ground next to him. He tried to focus his restoration magic on his wound, breathing heavily as his amber gaze met Alana's golden one. "Don't do this. Please."

Alana looked at the sword in her hand for a few seconds, seeing the sun glint off of the shiny metal surface before looking back at her friend. "I've already made my choice." She flipped the blade around in her hand so the point of it was facing her.

"NO!" Saoron got to his feet to stop her, his eyes blazing.

"**Tiid Klo Ul!" **Alana used her Slow Time Shout, slowing everything down to a crawl. Saoron was still beginning to reach his hand out when Alana raised her sword up and stabbed herself in the chest.

The sword tore through her clothes and flesh with ease. Blood began to pour out of the wound and a gasp of pain left her lips. The Shout wore off as she pulled the sword out of her chest, letting the blade fall from her hands. Alana stumbled back, blood spilling from the wound that was so dangerously close to her heart, refusing to let her vampirism heal it. _'It's better if I go away for good. I just bring death no matter where I go.' _

She could dimly hear Saoron scream out her name as his hand missed hers and she fell. _'Good. It's what a monster like me deserves.' _She closed her eyes and thought of the people that had been the closest to her over the course of her life as the Dragonborn. _'Everyone…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'_

"_It's good to see the future of the College is in good hands. If you ever need my assistance, please do not hesitate to ask me, Arch Mage. I'll always stand by your side." _Tolfdir. The old man had always supported her during her time in the College of Winterhold, never hesitating to lend her a hand or alerting her of magical disturbances that required her attention. He had been almost like a father to her, teaching her in the ways of magic.

"_You led us to victory here today, Alana. It was an honor to stand by your side and shed the Empire's blood with you. I'll never forget what you've done, and neither will the men and women who fought by your side." _Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric's right hand man. The two of them led the siege on Whiterun, spilling the blood of the Empire's soldiers with the ferocity and courage of true Nords.

"_Nice to see you're still in one piece. Was worried about you after the battle at Fort Sungard. Shows those Imperial dogs that they'll have to do a lot harder to put down us Nords, eh?" _Ralof, her very first friend in Skyrim. The man who introduced her to Ulfric Stormcloak and his cause, helped her escape from Helgen.

"_I would like to thank you for your service to Skyrim and her people. You showed that we will not bow down to the Thalmor and will fight back. I could think of no other woman I would rather have fighting by my side than you, Alana. I'm very proud to have fought with you." _Ulfric Stormcloak, the former Jarl of Windhelm and current High King of Skyrim. The man's charisma inspired her to take up her sword against the Empire, fighting for their right to decide their own future without being burdened by an empire too weak to rule them.

"_Bloody hell, lass. You've brought in a lot of gold for the guild this week. I can't remember the last time there was actually hope around here. You've done what I was beginning to think was impossible. You've saved the Thieves Guild." _Brynjolf, the man who helped her become one of the stealthiest people in all of Skyrim and taught her how to pick virtually any lock. With his guidance she became the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild and brought it back from the brink. She could still feel the Ebony Blade in her hand as she slew him.

"_You know something, Alana? I've never felt so at ease around you before. You've gotten me to show my true colors around you. Now shut up and kiss me." _Astrid. The woman who had helped her mend her broken mind and got her to be more at ease. A few tears left Alana's eyes as she thought about her mistress, her heart throbbing in guilt. _'Astrid…' _

Her arm slammed into a small section of the tower that jutted out, shattering it on impact and bending it at an unnatural angle. A gasp of pain left her lips and the force sent her spinning.

"_Turns out you don't learn much about something just by sleeping with it. And I swear, Alana, if you laugh, I'm going to bite you." _Serana. The vampire she fell in love with and made happy. A sob left her lips as she thought back to the day she died, the rain pelting her skin as she clutched Serana's broken body in her arms and cried.

'_I'm sorry I got you killed. You'd be better off without me in your life.' _Alana hit the lukewarm water with a loud splash. She became drenched in a manner of seconds and the weight of the water began to pull her down to the shadowy depths of the sea with its powerful hands. Alana didn't fight back against it despite her body's instincts screaming at her to stop and swim up to the surface; she had no desire to. She wanted to end it the only way she could.

Alana could see the sun, so big and bright beneath the brown water. Its brilliant shine started to fade away the further she sank and she could the sliminess of underwater weeds and plant life tickling her legs. Blackness started to creep at the corners of her vision and she closed her eyes for the last time, embracing the end of her life. _'I'll see you soon…' _

'_Serana…'_

The only trace of her left was a few bubbles escaping her mouth and disturbing the surface as the last breath of air left her lungs.

* * *

"No…no!" Saoron watched as Alana fell to her death into the sea, too late to save her. The damage she inflicted on his shoulder wasn't lethal by any means; it was merely meant to incapacitate him and stop him from preventing her from killing herself.

He gritted his teeth in frustration, focusing his magic on the wound to close it up. "Dammit!" He was furious with himself for not being able to prevent his best friend from taking her own life. It made him feel weak and powerless, unfit to call himself her friend. _'No. Don't think like that. That's the same method of thinking that drove Alana to this.' _

Saoron picked up her bloodied swords, fusing them together and lifting it with a grimace. The weapon wasn't as heavy as he initially thought but it was no lightweight dagger; the damn thing weighed more than any greatsword or shield he had ever used.

He had to get down into the water and go after her. Even though he knew there was a very little chance that she had survived the fall, he had to try. He wouldn't give up hope that easily. _I have to get down there. Looks like there is only one way to go.' _

He descended the tower and made his way across the courtyard of Fort Frostmoth's ruins, breaking into a sprint when he reached the docks below the ruined tower. How Alana didn't land on them instead was a miracle.

Saoron set his shield and sword by the coastline, dropping Alana's zweihander. The water was still rippling from Alana's fall and he began to discard his heavy armor. The added weight would only drag him down to his own death and he had no desire to be sent to Sovngarde right now.

With his armor tucked into a neat pile he jumped into the ocean after her. Saoron swam out to where he believed she had sunk to and cast a water breathing spell. With the spell cast he dove beneath the surface of the water and began to concentrate, straining his eyes to try and see in the murky depths. Reeds and clams littered the seafloor and he narrowed his eyes when he saw a shadowy mass up ahead. _'There!'_

He swam over to the shape and confirmed his finding. It was Alana's body, slowly sinking to the seafloor. _'Alana…' _

Her body was still, her right arm broken and bent at an unnatural angle. Saoron fought the current trying to sweep her away and reached her, grabbing onto her shoulder and kicking with his feet to swim to the surface. His spell would only last for so long and he could feel it beginning to wear off.

His head broke the surface and he let out a gasp of air. He hadn't swum too far away from shore and he managed to carry Alana's limp form across to the ashy beach. He laid her body down on her back, pushing his hands just below her ribcage to try and force the water out of her lungs. A bit spilled from her lips, bubbling out of the corner of her mouth, but still she did not stir.

"Dammit Alana, don't you dare do this to me." Saoron fought back a surge of sorrow and continued with his efforts until his muscles throbbed and groaned in protest. A few thin streams of salt water dribbled out of her open mouth, her chest still and unmoving.

He touched her forehead, brushing her soaked hair out of her face and balling his hand into a fist. "Dammit…"

Saoron was forced to admit it when she did not react to his feeble attempts to rouse her. Alana was dead. _'She's gone. And nothing will bring her back.' _

He stood up from Alana's body and wiped his eyes as an unfamiliar wetness stung the very corners of them. _'I can't leave her here. She deserves far better than to be left out to rot and have scavengers feast on.' _

Saoron started to fit on his armor when he heard a pair of portals open behind him. _'An Oblivion portal. Someone's summoned a daedra.' _

He looked over his shoulder to see a pair of dremora lords waiting for him, each of them with an iron greatsword in their hands. They were encased in heavy daedric armor, the blood red lines giving them the appearance of a dread knight, and the Breton man could sense the powerful fire magic in their weapons.

"Stand aside, mortal," one of the dremora growled. "We are here to take her body to Lord Dagon."

Saoron faced them, drawing his glass sword and preparing to cast Ebonyflesh. "Like hell you are. You'll have to get through me, first." _'Even when she's dead, the daedric princes still want her body. Sick bastards. Even with her gone, I can handle two dremora lords. I've had worse odds before.'_

"So be it." The one to his right growled and swung his heavy sword. Saoron cast the alteration spell and rolled under the blow, letting his free hand become encased with Frost Cloak. It would whittle away at their power and stamina, leaving them exhausted and easier to fight against. His method of combat was much more strategic than Alana's ever was; she preferred to use her sheer power and brute force alone to just cut down everything that got touched by her sword. Saoron was a cunning strategist in comparison, using his magical prowess to his advantage.

His Breton blood gave him an advantage, enabling him to absorb the magicka from spells that hit him. Against enemies that used enchanted weapons like dremora lords, it was definitely something that proved useful.

The second dremora took a swing at him and Saoron leapt back, making sure he stayed within range of them for his Frost Cloak spell to affect them. He was still on the defensive, using his mobility to his advantage to avoid their clumsy attacks. He was tempted to scoff at their lack of a real challenge; even though her mind was shattered and she wasn't aiming to kill, Alana was much more dangerous in their fight than the two daedra. Her method of fighting was very vicious and unpredictable.

The style of the two dremora was the same style of traditional combat most greatsword users were taught. It was easy for him to counter, even without his steel shield.

He parried a pair of blows from the two daedra before he countered with an Ice Storm spell. Both dremora stumbled, the icy magic eating more of their stamina away. Ice began to crawl up their armor, slowing them down even more, and Saoron started to push them onto the defensive.

His sword clashed against theirs and it was obvious to see that the daedra were losing the ability to keep their swords raised.

"What trickery is this!?" one spat, groaning in pain as Saoron's sword cut through the tough armor of its abdomen. "I suddenly feel so weak!"

"Cursed mage!" the other growled out, struggling to keep standing with the ice magic draining its power. "You will suffer for your insolence."

Saoron's lip curled up in a snarl of determination and sheathed his sword, summoning every bit of magicka he had left in his reserves. "Rot in Oblivion where you belong." Lightning crackled along his fingertips and he focused his entire magical power into one powerful blast of Lightning Storm.

The magic struck the two dremora lords with a flash of bright light, blinding even himself. When he lowered his hands he saw that both dremora had been disintegrated into piles of ash, sending them back to Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion, the Deadlands. It was said to be the very definition of hell, full of collapsed towers with broken bridges on islands surrounded by molten lava. Towers built to house Sigil Stones were erected during the Oblivion Crisis, over two hundred years ago. A small passage of time for a daedric prince like Mehrunes Dagon, who would live for an eternity.

Saoron turned back to Alana's body, lowering his head when his amber eyes raked over the sight of the strongest person he knew lying limp in the ash. It still hadn't quite sunken in yet, that the first friend he ever had was now dead, killed by her own hand. "Alana, I'm sorry. I wish I paid more attention sooner."

He brushed a hand through her wet blonde hair, now slowly drying thanks to the sun blazing overhead. A gentle breeze ruffled her clothes and Saoron's ears picked up the sound of lightweight footsteps. The pattern suggested it wasn't a soldier or an ash spawn and he could feel an overwhelming sense of vampiric power. It wasn't radiating from Alana's body, either; instead, it was right behind him.

Saoron whipped around with his sword springing into his dominant hand, his other cloaked with fire. Approaching him was a young blonde woman wearing tight black and red leather armor. His eyes spotted the black handprint on the chest and his eyes narrowed. This was someone from the Dark Brotherhood.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want?" he asked with a growl.

The woman stopped a few feet from him, her bright golden eyes flickering to Alana's body. "I came for her."

"She's dead," Saoron croaked, his grief giving him strength. "What more could you want?"

"I didn't come to kill. Though if that's what you'd like, then I can easily start with you," the blonde shot back with a sneer, baring her canines. Saoron stood his ground and refused to be intimidated, having dealt with vampires before, and she let out a soft hum. "Hmm. Any other man would've run for their lives by now. Either you're a fool, or you're someone who's familiar with the undead."

"You could say that." Saoron's grip on his sword tightened and he took notice of her weapons. An unusually shaped dagger was strapped to her thigh and an ebony sword hung from a holster on her back. A little heavy for someone who was an assassin. "What do you want with Alana?"

"I want to talk."

"Good luck talking to a damn corpse."

"My, quite the mouth on you." The vampire smirked at him and took a few steps closer, enough for him to feel her warm breath on his armor. "Alana certainly knows how to pick a replacement." The last word was spat out of her mouth like venom.

"I'm not replacing anyone," the Breton man said coolly, keeping his composure despite being in very close proximity to a deadly vampire assassin. "Nor will I ever. Now if you're quite through with wasting time, I would prefer I take my friend back to Raven Rock."

"You're not going alone." The woman helped ease Alana's body across his back and for a moment he swore he saw unadulterated sorrow flash across her face briefly before turning to her normal stoic self.

"Forgive me, I never told you my name, did I? My name is Astrid, the leader of the Dark Brotherhood," she introduced calmly.

"And Alana was _my _Listener."

That wasn't a smile. That was a furious baring of fangs and Saoron had to admit it, she had every right to be infuriated with Alana.

Raven Rock seemed so far away now.

_**A/N: And that's it for Book 1. Alana's suicide is the highlight of this arc, all of her darkest thoughts finally being too much to bear. Next chapter begins Book 2: Oblivion Walker. Now, time to clear up some confusion you will have. 'How the fuck did Astrid reach the island that quick?'  
**_

_**Answer: the chapter with the Dark Brotherhood is set about two weeks prior to Alana trying to kill herself. While it would be amusing to see Astrid magically teleport via Oblivion portals, that shit doesn't actually work. Hence this explanation. See you all soon**_

_**C. Strife#5371**_


	9. Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 1

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to the first chapter of Arc 2 of WotN, Oblivion Walker. This overall arc will be less heavy than the first one (we'll still get dark moments and shit) and we'll see even more of Solstheim and its native creatures. A lot of fun quests to undertake, including an assassination plot on the councilors. Also, we have a special guest appearance in this arc! Overall, I'm super excited for it. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 1***

Alana was drowning.

She knew she was dying. She could hear her body screaming for air, her lungs burning as they begged for her to snap out of it and swim to the surface. But she could not move her limbs, despite her instincts' pleas for her to stop. The weight of the lukewarm water intent on dragging her to the shadowy depths was too much for her to handle in such a weakened state.

Even if she wanted to, she doubted she would be able to. Her right arm dangled uselessly at her side, having broken during her fall, and she could feel the harsh sting of the saltwater on the stab wound in her chest. _'I want to die. I want to die.'_

Those four words repeated in her head like an echo. In a twisted way she found solace in them. She was finally dying and ridding Tamriel of its greatest threat.

She dared to blink her eyes open a bit, fully expecting the tangled webs of the Spiral Skein to snatch her and swallow her whole. However it was not the case.

Her eyes snapped open when she no longer found herself drowning in the sea. Instead, she was in some sort of inky chasm between the mortal plane and the afterlife. "W-where…where am I?"

A gasp of pain left her lips as she took in a breath of air, clutching her chest with her good arm. Her hand came away wet and red with her own blood, the wound slowly knitting itself back together.

"You're in limbo."

Alana froze. The voice was as familiar as it was impossible. _'N-no…it can't be him.' _She slowly turned around and found herself staring into the face of the man who should have been dead. Every bit of him was achingly reminiscent, from his rugged beard and the scars on his cheeks to his calm blue gaze and long blond hair. He wore steel plate armor forged by his own hands, the craftsmanship subtle but strong enough to block a blow from a weapon made of elven materials. It was a bit of a shock to her to realize that their eyes were on the same level, even though she spent her life looking up to him.

"Father…" Alana said numbly, clenching her shaking hands into fists and biting back a whimper of pain as agony spasmed up her right arm. Her golden eyes began to fill up with tears as emotions she thought she had lost forever stirred in her dead heart. Suddenly she was just a child as the familiar fumes of smoke and iron filled her nose, terrified of the judgment she knew she deserved. Dammit, why did it have to be him?

"I'm sorry," she choked out, knowing it wasn't enough for everything she had done wrong. Before she could say anymore, however, he stepped forward and hugged her tightly. His rough hands gently ran through her hair, reminding her of warmth and safety, and the cold armor around her heart shattered.

Alana allowed herself to cry into his broad chest. How many years had it been since she last got a chance to speak to her father after he was killed by the Thalmor? She could feel the slight bulge of his Talos amulet on his chest even through the armor and his voice had a hint of raggedness to it thanks to him breathing in the smoke of his forge.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked gently, his hands massaging her shoulders.

"For everything! Everything I've done!" Alana clutched onto the edges of his armor, her fingers digging into the cold steel. "I couldn't do anything to save you. I couldn't do what I was chosen to do! I couldn't even save the ones I loved! Everything is my fault!"

Her father let out a quiet hum. "Alana, my child. Ever since you were barely knee high, you were always someone who did things with their own two hands, like a true daughter of the north. However, you mustn't take on everything alone. Not everything that happened is your responsibility and it is arrogant of you to assume so."

The desperate warmth in her chest faded as he spoke to her like a misguided child. "It was my destiny to save Skyrim and all I did was lead it to ruin!" Alana hissed, pulling back with pained defiance. "You don't understand. I wasn't strong enough to fight back! Of course I was alone; people I loved _died_ when I got too close!"

Her father narrowed his eyes, folding his muscular arms and refusing to back down. "You led our homeland to independence. You saved all of us from Alduin," he reminded, his tone brooking no argument. "Every hero in Sovngarde wishes they had half of your courage. I only feared that you would fall down the wrong path."

"And I did!" Alana shot back, her voice cracking, but her father was already shaking his head.

"You dug yourself out of it! Alana, you are much stronger than I could ever hope to be. Even when things were at their worst, you still took sword in hand and fought on. You saved the entire world from the World Eater himself. Give yourself some credit!"

Alana flinched from his words. She knew he was right. "I hate this. I didn't ask for this. I never wanted it. Why me? Of all the people to be burdened with saving the world, why did Akatosh choose me?"

Her father put his hands on her shoulder, briefly running a finger over the scar on her pale skin. "Because he believed you were capable of it. And he's right in his choice. I've watched you from Sovngarde ever since you left Cyrodiil. Yes, you made terrible mistakes. But you made amends for them. Because of you, Skyrim stands independent and free of the Thalmor. You stopped the dragons. You are the sole reason the world is still here."

"Saviors don't fall to temptation by the daedra." Alana let out a bitter scoff. "Nor do they kill innocents. Some damned savior I was. I'm just a damned daedric puppet who deserved to die."

"Is that you speaking, or Mephala?" her father challenged. "The daughter I know and raised would never let herself fall to a daedric prince. She'd take her sword in hand and fight back."

Alana stopped for a moment to think about his words. _'It's the same thing Saoron said to me, before I fell. He said it wasn't me speaking. Was he right? Were those thoughts someone else's voice? But it sounded like me!' _

'…_I'm such a fool. I should've seen it. Mephala disguised her voice before, as the Night Mother. I was too busy drowning in my guilt and sorrow to see it. Oh gods. I'm so pathetic.' _

Her inability to see how she was so easily manipulated made her furious, replacing her sorrow. Her anger gave her strength.

"You always acted on emotion," her father murmured. "It's okay to let them give you strength. But you must not depend on them. Like right now, for instance. If you say a daedra appear right now, you wouldn't hesitate to try and cut them down. However you'd lose. You'd lose because you are blinded by your hatred and anger. You need to keep a clear mind, which isn't easy due to Mephala's meddling. She's left your mind open for invasion, allowing Vaermina to project nightmares into."

The blonde looked up at him. "What do you suppose I do? I can't fight back against both of them."

"Not in your current state. That is true," he agreed. "But use your head. There have been plenty of Dragonborn men and women before you. What separates you from the others?"

"I don't know…I devoured Alduin's soul?"

"Precisely. You've done something no one had ever done. You devoured the soul of the Firstborn of Akatosh and absorbed its power. Your powers as the Last Dragonborn are far superior to those of the past because of that alone. Your abilities in magic superseded even the Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold. Even if you have not used it in a very long time, the power is still inside you."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "They're afraid of you, Alana. You. A mortal who slew the World Eater and devoured his soul. They're afraid of what you can become."

"What are you saying?" the blonde asked. "Why would they be afraid of me? I'm just one person."

"True," he conceded. "But no person ever truly defeated Alduin. You did. You alone went through the maze of Labyrinthian. You led Skyrim to be free of the Empire for the first time since the Second Era. Alana, don't you see it? There's only one other Dragonborn whose mortal feats even come close to what you've done and we bear his amulets."

He was talking about Talos himself. The Dragon of the North, the Ninth Divine. The legendary hero who conquered all of Tamriel and forged a dynasty that lasted for hundreds of years until it fell over two hundred years ago. The hero-god of mankind.

"Talos."

"Yes. You are on that very same path. The path that leads to divinity."

Alana looked away from him, lowering her head. "I didn't ask for this." _'Me, a Divine like Talos? Please. Don't make me laugh. I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Someone like me doesn't ascend to godhood.' _

'_And who's that talking? Me or Mephala?' _

"_Child, you've finally seen it," _a deep voice grumbled behind her. Alana turned around, looking for her father, but he had vanished. She was once again alone and her hands went for her sword's handle.

"Who's there!?" she demanded. "Show yourself!"

"_I am here." _A bright ruby red dragon appeared in front of her, flapping his mighty wings. He landed in front of her, his old and powerful gaze meeting her own. _"My champion." _

"Akatosh…" Her hands clenched and she stalked towards him with a hiss of fury. "What the hell gives you the right to call me _your_ champion!? You never bothered to take responsibility! You didn't even lift a damn finger when the daedra meddled with my life! You didn't stop them from turning my own family against me!"

"_I can see through the past, present, and future, but I cannot interfere," _he said with a low grumble. _"The tides of destiny were clear and as such, I could not waste my power trying to change an inevitable fate." _

"Don't give me that," Alana snapped. "You are the Chief Divine, as your kin are so fond of boasting. You could have easily done something. I don't mean a damned thing to you. To you and the daedra, I'm just a pawn."

"_No. You're much more than that." _Akatosh's body began to glow a bright white, the flash blinding her. Alana shielded her eyes and when she lowered her arms, she found herself not in an inky chasm between realms, but back in Tamriel. She was watching as she fought against Saoron on top of the tower before she killed herself and though at the time she couldn't see it being blinded by her sorrow, she saw the cruel form of Mephala standing behind her, a twisted smirk on her face as Alana stabbed herself.

'_That meddling little bitch. This is what she wanted! She wanted me to die so she could claim my soul for herself! Why did I not see it sooner!?'_

'_Because I was too caught up in my own guilt and pain. She used that against me and it worked.' _Alana sank to her knees, feeling nothing but shame for being so blind as to not see the obvious. The pain of losing Serana clouded her mind and Mephala tricked her into thinking it was her own fault. _'The real Serana would have never blamed me. She would have stayed by me regardless.'_

"_Death is not your fate. Not today. But you will never reach your destiny as long as you are tainted." _Akatosh's eyes flickered towards Alana's covered arm, noticing it shake. _"Stay still, my child. I will cleanse you of your filthy impurities."_

Before she could even utter a protest, Akatosh enveloped her in his cleansing light. She thought it would be a calming and even soothing experience.

She was wrong, so terribly wrong.

Alana fell to her hands and knees with a loud wail of pain, trembling as it rippled through her body like a wave. Her blood hissed and bubbled beneath her skin and tears stung the corners of her eyes. It felt as though her body was being ripped apart and sewn back together all wrong, the blonde falling down on her side and gasping for breath.

"W-why?" she asked with a rasp, sweat pouring down her face as she tried to control her body's shaking. "Why did you choose me?"

Akatosh's eyes met hers and he rose up into the air with a flap of his powerful wings. _"Because there is no one else who could do it. You are the true savior. No longer will your body be stained with the foul presence of the daedra." _

The bright light faded away from his scaly hide and Alana felt a sudden surge of raw power course through her body. She stood up, wobbling a little and clutching her side, but she was still able to stare back at him.

Her mind felt lighter than it had. She couldn't feel the heavy darkness that had warped it for over a year; instead, it was clear. Nothing was there. No hint of a dark whisper telling her to kill herself. Nothing. He had done what she thought to be impossible and cleared her mind of any and all daedric influence.

"_Do not use your powers as a means to destroy. Use them as a means to protect. Be the savior you know you can be. Be the Eternal Angel." _

Alana felt her back quiver and to her shock a single black wing sprang out near her right shoulder. "What…what did you do to me!?"

"_I've made you stronger, child. This is your gift from me to aid you in your destiny. Now go," _he commanded. _"Go forth and strike with the power of the Divines, my child." _Akatosh started to fade away and Alana's wing vanished. This new power that surged through her veins was intoxicating. It was the power of a god and she closed her eyes.

'_I think…I think I know why you told me to live for the two of us, Serana. You wanted me to be able to atone for the things I've done. You wanted to see me keep fighting back, even if it looked helpless. Because you knew I could do it.' _Alana rested a hand over her heart, feeling it beat beneath her dark vest. _'I'll live for you.'_

'_I promise.'_

* * *

Astrid followed the brunet man carrying Alana's body back to Raven Rock, ignoring the many stares that some of the male population sent her way. It wasn't unexpected; her tight leather armor clung to her body in ways that left very little to the imagination. Still, it would be very unwise for one of them to attempt to approach her with the intent on bedding her in her current state. The trip to Solstheim had been long and tiresome, leaving her bitter and hungry.

Her vampire blood hissed and boiled in the sunlight, though thankfully the sun was beginning to set as they progressed through town. _'Can't see why anyone would want to live all the way out here on the Morrowind frontier. It's barely more than a giant ashy wasteland.'_

The Breton man fumbled with a key, holding between his teeth for a second to heft Alana's still body onto his shoulder before taking the key back. "We're almost home. I'll brew up a potion or two to keep your hunger at bay."

"There will be no need for that." Astrid waved her hand dismissively, smirking at a young dunmer guard patrolling the town square. "I think I've already found my prey." _'Foolish boy. He'll blame what happened to him as nothing more than having too much to drink.'_

She could feel the monster inside her begging for release, to spill blood until it bathed in it. Astrid squashed it with ease, remaining in control of her powers. That soldier would make a fine enough meal for now. _'I can wait. I'm in control of my own power, not the other way around.'_

Astrid may have had her vampire powers under control, but her fury with her former Listener bubbled and popped like molten rock. Alana didn't say a damn word; she just abandoned her and her family as if they didn't mean a damn thing to her.

Astrid glared at Alana's blank open eyes and noticed something. They weren't the brilliant shade of gold that she was so used to seeing. Instead, they were a dark blue, the color of the sea after a storm. "Breton." _'How did they do that? Did she find a way to cure herself?'_

"The name's Saoron," he snapped back. "What do you want?"

"What color are Alana's eyes?"

"Gold. Why?"

"Take a look." Astrid gestured to the body. "They're blue."

"Impossible. The only way her eyes could have turned back to normal is if she was cured of her vampirism," Saoron murmured, frowning. He stroked Alana's cheek with one of his rugged hands and he tightened his grip on her. "She's breathing."

"Thought you said she was dead," Astrid reminded with a bit more snappiness than intended. It wasn't his fault that Alana abandoned the Brotherhood. If anything, he probably attempted to persuade her not to do to it.

Saoron gave her a sharp look but managed to remain in control of his emotions. Astrid was impressed. Anyone else would've come back with a snappy remark, but he remained calm and composed. It was admirable.

"She was. I can promise you that in the time it took for me to get down into the water and pull her out, she had long since drowned," he replied evenly. "I know a dead body when I see one and I can very much tell you she had died."

"Then why is she breathing right now?" Astrid countered.

"Use your head," Saoron snapped, finally having enough of her tone. "Do you really expect Akatosh to just sit back and watch as his chosen one is sentenced to an eternity of torment at the hands of the daedra? I guarantee you he interfered."

Astrid bared her fangs in a snarl. If it were anyone else who took that tone of voice with her, she'd have torn their throat out and drained them dry right then and there. It was only the fact that he was Alana's friend that prevented her from acting on those urges.

Saoron wasn't intimidated in the slightest and merely scoffed. "You'll have to do a lot better than that." Bastard.

Astrid sized him up in case it did come to blows. He was particularly muscular for a Breton and moving efficiently in heavy steel armor, meaning he was a master of it. She noticed that his right shoulder guard was completely missing, possibly being cut off by Alana. He carried a glass sword on his belt, lighter than her ebony one, and a steel shield was fastened to his left hand. More than just some kind of brute mercenary, that was for sure. Alana wouldn't be around someone who couldn't handle their own.

'_He's a strategy fighter. He'll use his shield to absorb damage and wait to counter. No wonder why their fight was close; Alana doesn't have an ounce of defense in her.' _Astrid had seen her fight plenty of times and was able to deduce exactly what her weaknesses would be. Her style revolved around using brute strength to simply overpower an enemy. However she relied on fluid movements; disrupt that and she'd be caught off balance.

At least, when she had been using the sword Astrid last saw her use.

Her new blade was unlike anything she had seen. On first glance it looked like it was pure steel, however upon closer inspection one could see the rare material of aetherium on the blade. A small button was on the gold and brown handle, though what it did was a mystery to her.

Saoron focused on Alana's motionless form, his hands glowing with restoration magic. The ugly wound on Alana's chest started to knit itself back together and now Astrid could see the faint rise and fall of it now as life slowly returned to her broken and battered body.

Astrid felt her thirst get unbearable now; she had been fighting it for days and knew she couldn't keep going for much longer before she snapped. _'I will not do what she did and starve myself. I am better than that. There should be someone around here who could be a good meal.'_

She turned on her heel and left, looking over her shoulder. "Find me when she wakes up. I'm going to feed."

She didn't wait to hear his reply and she found herself in Raven Rock's ashy streets. Astrid closed her eyes and let her senses roam free. She could hear the clanging of metal coming from the forge, the gentle scuffs of the townsfolk as they walked through the marketplace, the sobbing of a child—

Wait. A child?

Astrid was many things. She was a dangerous assassin who could send battle hardened men into cowering away in fear with a single draw of her blade and make bandit chiefs beg for mercy. But something about seeing children in anguish touched her heart. Perhaps it was because of her own experiences as a child when her uncle molested her.

Astrid's golden eyes blinked open and she started to approach the sound. Her enhanced hearing enabled her to pinpoint their location within seconds and she found herself looking at a young dunmer boy crouched against one of the abandoned buildings in town. He couldn't have been older than eight years of age by the look of him.

He was tucked into a tight ball, rocking back and forth and sniffling. He looked up at her with teary red eyes, shaking as he saw the assassin. "P-please…please, don't hurt me anymore…"

"Relax, child. I won't harm you," Astrid replied soothingly, crouching down so she was level with him. Poor boy looked like he had been beaten; ugly bruises and cuts lined his arms and she could make out bruising on his neck.

"What is a child like you doing out here by themselves?" she asked.

"I…I ran away from the temple," he stammered, tears dripping from his face. "Elder Othreloth wouldn't believe me."

"Believe what?" she pressed. The boy was hiding something. Something big.

"T-the things Galdrus Hlervu did to me…" he said with a quiet whimper.

It clicked in her mind all at once. The bruising on the neck, the reason why he was so terrified of her when she first approached. _'That sick bastard. Even here, there are scum like this priest using their status to harm children in that manner.' _

Memories of her own abuse flooded her mind and she started to seethe. "Where can I find him?"

"T-there." The boy pointed to the large temple she and Saoron had passed by earlier when carrying Alana back. "H-he's in his room right now."

Astrid nodded and stood up. "Wait here for me. I'll be right back." _'Even assassins have codes. Do not harm a child or take unnecessary life. This sick son of a bitch needs to die.'_

She stalked through the town, a dangerous aura of death surrounding her body. A few guards stepped away from her and she could feel her fangs grow in anticipation of sinking into soft and supple flesh. She needed to kill this bastard before he could repeat his heinous actions.

The temple was the largest building in town and guarded by two soldiers wearing unusual armor. They glanced at her as she marched up the steps but made no move to try and stop her. In fact they backed away, perhaps sensing the aura of death that covered her like a blanket.

She pushed the heavy wooden doors open and was greeted by an elderly dunmer in long flowing robes. He didn't have an air of maliciousness about him and he bowed. "Greetings. I am Elder Othreloth. Have you come seeking guidance?"

"I've come for Galdrus. Is he here?" Astrid asked silkily, calling upon her vampiric seduction powers to aid her.

"Ah, my apprentice. He is down in his chambers for the night. I didn't think he would have a visitor. He doesn't often have female company." The elderly priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But please, do not let me stop you. I have urgent business to attend to."

Astrid descended deep into the temple, glancing at the ashy walls and the dancing flames of the candles that lined them. The stench of charred bodies wafted up her nose and she grimaced. _'Disgusting.' _

The blonde assassin called upon her Vampire's Sight power to find out just where he was hiding. Her power rewarded her by showing her that he was only a few doors down from where she stood and she licked her fangs. She would take great joy in ending his life.

A few urns lined the halls and in the center of the main chamber was a small garden filled with scathecraw, a dangerous plant that would wreak havoc on one's body. Even an immortal like her wasn't immune to its deadly effects.

She found the room she was searching for and opened it as quietly as she could, pulling the Blade of Woe free. "Galdrus, is it?"

The priest had his back turned to her and he was dressed in pale colored robes with a hood over his head. He had a sneer on his face and smirked. "What's the matter, did that boy go home and cry to you? Take me to the guards and I guarantee that you'll rot in the Bulwark for false accusations. There's no evidence except the word of some filthy street urchin and a harlot."

Astrid smiled cruelly and threw the dagger. It flashed across the room and impaled his hand to the wall, the priest looking at it in horror as the assassin strutted across the room to him. "Take you in? No. I have no plans on that. Not my style, anyway. Even if it was, I wouldn't."

"Because this is _so _much more satisfying." She gripped the dagger and twisted it into his hand, making him howl in pain. She followed up with a sharp knee to the groin, the force of the blow crushing the soft organs.

He screamed, trying to rip the Blade of Woe free from his hand to no avail. "Y-you bitch! I'll see you hanged!"

"Mmm…" Astrid took in a deep breath of the scent of his blood, leaning in to lick up a few drops. "Delicious. You have a wonderful taste. If you weren't such a sick bastard, I would have considered making you my thrall."

"As it happens, though, I wouldn't want filth like you following me around." Astrid tore her blade free from his hand, blood gushing out of the wound. Before he could fall to the ground the blonde assassin sank her fangs deep into his throat and tore it out.

The priest let out a weak gurgle that was cut short. Blood bubbled out of the wound and Astrid began her feast. Her eyes shone with power as she drank his blood, not letting a single drop go to waste. She only pulled away when she had her fill, licking a few stray drops from her lips. The sweet nectar gave her strength as well as reduced the effects of being in sunlight.

With her thirst quenched, she let his body drop onto the floor and wiped her chin. It was nice not being having her blood boil beneath her veins every second she was outside. With her feed, she would also keep her vampire powers at bay for another couple of days and she even saved an urchin to boot.

All in all, it was a good day for her and she could walk away feeling somewhat satisfied. Now when Alana woke up, she would give her a piece of her mind. She was still very much infuriated with her, not just for running away and abandoning the Dark Brotherhood, but for having the sheer audacity to think that she was the only one suffering from Serana's death and attempting to kill herself.

'_When you wake up, don't expect me to just forgive you. You have a lot to answer for, Alana.'_

Astrid turned on her heel and began her walk back to Saoron's house. With a bit of luck, no one would notice the priest was missing for a few days or so.

_**A/N: So…before the questions start, I'll answer them. What's the deal with the priest? That actually came to me because I went to go loot his shit and I found children's clothes in his chest. I did it again with another character and got the same thing. I saw it as an opportunity to add more depth to Raven Rock. Plus, he's an asshole too. He's almost as big of a prick as Nazeem.**_

_**C. Strife#5371**_


	10. Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 2

_**A/N: Hey all and welcome to chapter ten of Whispers of the Night! This story is progressing far better than its predecessor and I'm happy to have finally gotten past the more difficult stages of this darker story. As always, I hope you enjoy!**_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 2***

Alana slowly blinked her eyes open, fully expecting to find herself adrift in the sea miles away from Solstheim's shores. However as her blurry vision started to clear up she started to recognize that she was not drowning and being pecked at by scavengers. She was lying on a bed with her arm and side covered in thick white bandages, stained red with her blood. "W-where…?"

She sat up with a wince, biting back a yelp of pain as she put weight on her broken arm. It was starting to heal thanks to Akatosh's cleansing power, but it was still going to hurt like hell until it was properly mended. _'Dammit, this hurts.' _The wound on her chest was already mostly healed up and she was already undressed save her for her undergarments; her daedra hunting gear was hanging up and still soaking wet, droplets of water dripping into a puddle by the fireplace to dry.

"You're finally awake." Saoron was sitting across from her in a wooden chair, a goblet full of brandy in his hands judging by the smell of it. He was twirling it in his hands and he stood up, cracking his neck from side to side. "Don't move. Your body is still trying to get used to being whole again."

"Saoron, I'm fine," Alana replied with a wince, trying to swing her legs out of bed. However the Breton man wasn't buying the lie and he put his hand on her chest to force her back onto the bed.

"Like hell you are," he said with a hint of a frustrated snarl. "Stay."

Alana had never heard him actually say something to her in that tone of voice. He was always calm and composed; had her actions finally drove him to crack and let loose his frustrations? _'After what I just put him through, I deserve it. Even his patience has its limits.'_

The blonde lowered her head with a sigh as he went into the kitchens, presumably to make her something to eat. She hadn't realized it but she was starving and not for blood, either. The back of her throat wasn't yearning for the sweet river of life that flowed through one's veins. It was actually her stomach that was growling at her. _'When Akatosh said he'd remove my impurities, did he cleanse me of my vampirism too?'_

She tried to call forth her powers of the night to no avail. Her Vampire's Sight was gone, as was her ability to transform into the Vampire Lord. The blonde glanced out the window and saw that the sun had already begun to set. The brilliant orb of fire was starting to descend beyond the horizon and she rubbed her shoulder as it throbbed painfully. The muscles would take some time getting used to not being assisted by her vampire blood and she would probably have to train to get her strength back up to what it used to be.

Saoron returned a few minutes later with a bowl of clam chowder, giving it a gentle stir and handing it to her. "Here. I made a batch of it while you were out."

"Thank you." Alana raised the wooden spoon to her lips and began to eat. She hadn't realized it at first but she was in fact quite hungry. After the first few bites she began to eat quicker until it was gone; the warm chowder was so filling and she could feel it giving her strength. Her body needed it more than she realized.

When the last bite was gone Alana let the bowl fall into the bowl and she looked at the sheets covering her body. "I spoke to my father."

Saoron stopped in his tracks and looked at her, motioning for her to continue. Alana lowered her head and sighed. "He said that I was being irrational about everything and that I was being arrogant thinking I was responsible for what the daedra have been doing. Do you think he's right?"

"He is," Saoron answered quietly. "Think about everything you've accomplished. You saved Skyrim not just from Alduin, but from one of the most powerful vampire lords in all of Tamriel. If Harkon managed to put out the sun, imagine the chaos that would have erupted. Wars would've broken out and wouldn't end until every last vampire was dead. You and Serana included. Do you think she'd have wanted that?"

Alana shook her head, looking at her sword leaning against the table next to her bed. "No. She wouldn't…I'm sorry. I thought it was me telling myself I needed to die, but you were right. It was Mephala all along." _'He was right. I was too busy drowning in guilt to listen. Mephala almost got what she wanted.'_

At the thought of the daedric prince she began to seethe and she wanted to take her sword in hand; she wanted to strike her with every ounce of fury her body contained. But Alana knew she couldn't directly make the bitch pay without walking into a trap. Mephala may have been a lot more powerful now, but she still lacked the raw physical power to manifest on Tamriel for long periods of time. If Alana were to attack her she'd have to go into her realm of Oblivion, the Spiral Skein.

The blonde Nord let out a soft hiss of frustration. She wanted to make her pay, not just for meddling in her life and turning her own mind against her, but for the amount of good friends she had lost over the years due to her. _'She will,' _she silently vowed. _'Mephala will pay for what she did to you. All of you.'_

"You are a damned fool." Saoron let out a frustrated sigh. "I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't listen."

Alana tried to stand, focusing her restoration magic on herself, but it barely did anything and her attempts at standing resulted in her falling onto her hands and knees. Her legs felt as though they were made of nothing but sand, easily blown away by wind and water alike. Being dead seemed to have drained her body of its strength a lot more than she initially anticipated. "How did I get here?"

"We carried you back," Saoron answered, putting her arm under his back and hefting her back up.

"Wait…we?"

The door to his house opened up and Alana's face paled. The one person she didn't want to see yet at the same time wanted to was standing only a few feet away, however she could tell that the past year had definitely changed her. The beautiful gaze she could lose herself in was now a predatory gold and Alana could practically taste the anger that radiated from her. "A-astrid?"

With a furious snarl Astrid strode over to her and slapped her hard. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Alana winced from the power behind the strike and she couldn't bring herself to meet Astrid's furious gaze. "I—"

She was cut off by Astrid's hands grabbing her and slamming her against the wall, razor sharp canines bared in a snarl. "You selfish bitch! You left us! You left _me_, without a damned word!"

Alana felt the guilt burn in her chest for she knew Astrid had every reason to be absolutely livid with her. She did leave the Brotherhood, her family, behind when they needed her the most. She didn't want them all to suffer the same fate as so many others of her loved ones had and thought that leaving them was the best course of action at the time. _'She's right. I did leave them all. Not only that, but I turned her.' _

"You could've said something!" Astrid spat, her grip tightening. "But you didn't! You just ran away like a damned coward! Did I mean that little to you!?"

"I left because I didn't want you to die!" Alana shot back, slightly wobbling. "You would've suffered the same fate as Serana did!"

"Don't you _dare_ try and make my decisions for me," her former lover said with a hiss. Guilt racked Alana as she slowly realized just how much pain she had put her through. She not only turned her into a vampire against her will, but abandoned her when she needed her the most. She had been selfish about it.

Astrid let her go and reached for the ebony sword fastened to her back, unsheathing the deadly blade. "If you care so little for yourself, then you won't mind who I kill, will you? Perhaps I'll start with your friend that you're so fond of."

_That_ made Alana start to seethe. "Leave him out of this. He had nothing to do with it!" Power from her gift from Akatosh started to bubble and hiss beneath her skin and her hand found the handle of her zweihander.

"You know something? I don't want you," Astrid snapped. "I don't want this weak shell of a woman who cries about something that happened in the past. I want _Alana_ back; I want the vengeful warrior that would make a god tremble and the woman I fell in love with, not some pathetic weakling who wears her face."

Astrid's sword lashed out towards Saoron and Alana moved in the blink of an eye. Her sword flashed and met Astrid's with a loud clang, the blonde Nord breathing heavily as she pushed her back. She knew how deadly with a blade Astrid was prior to her involuntary transformation, but this was much different. Astrid was much stronger now thanks to the vampire blood that coursed through her veins

And she was _livid_.

Alana was still recovering and her movements were sluggish at best; her sword was barely able to connect with Astrid's at times and she eventually landed a glancing blow on her, the very edge of her black sword nicking her cheek. It was only a small cut and would heal within minutes but she'd definitely bear the scar from it. Blood began to trickle down her face and Alana felt Astrid's fist connect with her stomach.

She doubled over, winded from the strike, but still she remained standing, using her weapon to hold her up.

Astrid scoffed and stormed out, casting a glare over her shoulder. "If you want to die so damned badly, then I'll kill you myself."

Alana watched her go and she fell, panting and letting the sweat drip off of her like a heavy rain. Astrid's words stung and she knew she was right. She had to let go. As much as it pained her, she couldn't continue to blame herself for something that wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault but Mephala's.

"Well, she seems nice," Saoron quipped, pulling her back over his shoulder and setting her down in bed again. "You certainly know how to pick them, I'll give you that."

Even in spite of all that had just happened, Alana still let out a small laugh and rubbed her sore shoulder. "Even after she just attempted to kill you? In that case you should've seen her before. Damn woman was a constant tease."

She grimaced and let out a ragged cough. "And before you open your mouth, I know I deserved every bit of that. She has every right to be furious with me after what I did." _'By Talos, I knew she'd be furious with me. I should've anticipated her anger. But I think I underestimated just how infuriated she'd be with me. And saying, "I'm sorry," isn't going to cut it this time.' _

Alana let her head hit the pillow, glancing over at her friend with one eye already closed. "I'm going to sleep for a bit." She wanted to add that he wouldn't have to worry about her trying to kill herself again, that she would fulfill the promise she made to Serana during her dying moments, but the words died in her throat and she could feel her exhaustion getting the better of her.

She closed her eyes and for the first time in a long time she fell into a quiet and peaceful slumber.

* * *

Saoron watched the steady rising and falling of Alana's chest as she started to fall asleep and he let out a frustrated sigh. "Curse you and that damned stubbornness of yours." Astrid was probably out feeding on some homeless beggar and Alana wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Not in her current condition. Still, he wasn't sure if he could trust her to be fine on her own after she just attempted to kill herself. It wasn't exactly something he could just forget ever happened; he could still see her falling every time he closed his eyes and being powerless to stop it despite all of his skills as a warrior.

'_I think she'll take Astrid's words to heart more than my own,' _he mused. _'They were once romantically involved, after all, and sometimes it takes more than a friend to get through to someone in the mindset like her.' _

Even though Astrid did draw her blade on him, he didn't sense any proper intention to murder him from her. He firmly believed she only did that as some sort of test to see whether or not the Alana they both knew was still inside. If the woman they knew was still in there somewhere, she would leap to his defense in an instant and she did.

But he knew that wouldn't be enough to convince Astrid. He could tell she was just as stubborn as Alana was from their brief interactions. _'No wonder they ended up getting together.' _Saoron rolled his eyes at that.

He was dressed in a set of plain clothes for the time being, having taken off his armor to get it repaired by Glover Mallory, and he hated to admit that he felt strange walking around without the steel plates covering his body. He had only his sword on him for protection and though his endurance would enable him to take some punishment, it wouldn't stop a potentially fatal strike if someone were to attack and get the better of him.

Right now, he could swear that he felt eyes on him and he didn't like it. _'Why do I feel as though I'm being watched by someone?'_

Saoron glanced over his shoulder as subtly as he could, but whoever was stalking him was doing a good job of not getting spotted by him as he made his way through the dusty streets of Raven Rock. He saw Glover's forge up ahead and approached the blacksmith, his fellow Breton pounding away on a glowing hot elven sword for one of the Redoran Guard.

"Glover. It's nice to see you again," he greeted. "Been kept busy last few days?"

Glover shrugged and dipped the blade into a vat filled with water to cool it down, wiping beads of sweat off of his head. "You know me. I've always had a steady stream of work. What brings you here today?"

"Need you to help repair my armor." Saoron laid it out on the workbench for him, showing where the shoulder guard had been cut completely off by Alana's sword. "Damn shoulder guard got sliced clean off."

Glover frowned and looked at the cut, stroking his chin. "Too clean to be a normal blade. What in Oblivion did you go up against, a dremora lord?"

Saoron winced as he thought about the fight between him and Alana before she committed suicide. "Something like that." _'I'd really prefer not to ever get in a duel with Alana ever again. Even in a mentally broken state she's more vicious than anything I've gone up against.' _

"Hmm. I'll see what I can do. You sure you'd rather not upgrade to steel plate armor instead? It would offer a bit more protection and in your line of work, you could use all the protection you can get," Glover offered.

"Thanks, but I like my mobility. Normal steel isn't too heavy and allows me to move around easier than plate does," Saoron replied with a shake of his head. "How many days should I have to wait? I know you've probably got a few other customers."

"Days?" Glover smirked. "You're talking to one of the best blacksmiths in Tamriel here. I'll have this done within a few hours. Let me talk to Captain Veleth and see if I can trade him some improved sets of bonemold armor in return for letting you get priority. Won't do us any good if Raven Rock's resident mercenary gets himself killed now, would it?"

Saoron chuckled at that. "Careful. I don't think old Teldryn would take kindly to hear you saying that. I prefer to think of myself as the lone human enforcer who is more than glad to lend a helping hand around here."

The title of mercenary wasn't something that he felt fit him. He didn't ask to be paid for the jobs he performed for the Redoran Guard or the councilors. They had to insist he take the damn gold more often than not.

"You've done this town more good than Teldryn has and he's been here for at least two decades." Glover let out an unimpressed scoff. "All that bastard gives a damn about is how many septims one can float his way. He's not even that good of a blade; you'd beat him in a duel with ease."

"Teldryn knows his way around a sword. He's still alive for a reason," Saoron pointed out. "Besides, he hasn't really found anyone willing to hire his services for awhile. I think he's considering giving up the sellsword life and settling down properly. One can only be a mercenary for so long before it catches up with you."

Glover merely shrugged and reached under the workbench to pull out a steel ingot and some leather. "If you say so. I'll set to work on this and you should be good to go back out in no time at all. Just do me a favor and don't get yourself killed fighting daedra or whatever else is crawling on this island; you're not the damned Black Swordswoman."

'_No I'm not. But Alana is and yet none of you realize just how much she's done for this town.' _Alana might have seen herself as some sort of monster, but to the Redoran Guard she was a heroine. She had done so much for them even if they didn't know it was her.

Saoron left Glover to his work and set off across town to the Bulwark to report to Captain Veleth. The old dunmer was still waiting for him to report the situation at Fort Frostmoth and inform him of their victory over the ash spawn.

His initial sense of uneasiness soon went away as he approached the town's barricade; no one would attempt to try and assassinate him in close proximity to at least two dozen highly trained soldiers. Even if they sometimes fell to annoying distractions like wine. Talos knows how many times he saw a few of the soldiers spending two or more hours in the damn cornerclub trying out Geldis' new liquor.

The soldier standing guard at the main entrance to the barricade nodded in his direction as he approached. "The captain's inside. Go on in."

Saoron entered the Bulwark and true to the soldier's word Captain Veleth was indeed waiting patiently for him. The captain stood up from his seat and briskly approached him. "What news do you bring from Fort Frostmoth? Good I hope?"

"Yes. General Carius is dead," Saoron replied, shaking his hand in greeting. "No longer will we have to worry about him sending ash spawn to attack Raven Rock. We can all breathe a little easier now."

"Good, good. It's a pity it had to be this way," Veleth said with a hint of sadness. "There are many tales containing his exploits, including founding Raven Rock. Here; Councilor Morvayn wanted me to hand you and Alana this when you got back. Better than a soldier's pay."

"Save the money." Saoron shook his head and politely declined the hefty bag of gold that was passed his way. "We could use it for something much more important than paying me. Like getting some of those abandoned houses on the other side of town fixed up."

"Just take it so I don't have to hear it from the bloody councilors and then we can use it to refurnish those buildings," Veleth suggested. "That way they can't say I didn't give it to you like they said to and we can provide better living conditions to the people here."

"Alright, fine," Saoron conceded with a small grin. "Have it your way." Stubborn old bastard wasn't going to budge until he took it. "When can we start the repairs?"

"Hopefully once my men wise up and stop drinking that damn spirit." Veleth sent a scowl towards one of the younger soldiers in the barracks. "They've recently been falling to a drink called Emberbrand Wine. I despise the stuff myself; it's almost as addicting as skooma is. If I could just find where the hell they're hiding it, I can put an end to them falling asleep on the job."

"Need a hand finding it?" Saoron offered. "I'm not planning on going out of town until my armor's repaired."

"If you could, I'd consider it a favor. They're too smart to hide it in the Bulwark and I know Geldis doesn't carry it, either," Veleth replied. "I'd try looking around those abandoned houses on the outskirts of town, if you're not too busy."

"Not at all. Consider it done. And don't even think about trying to pay me for making this place a better home." Saoron smirked.

"You are a real piece of work." Veleth could only shake his head. "You know that you are one of the best things to happen to this town, right?"

"I'll assume that is as close to a compliment as I'm going to get from you." The brunet Breton laughed and started to head out to see what progress Glover had made. "I'll go ahead and see if I can sniff that stash out for you. I'll be back in a few."

"One more thing," Veleth called after him. "Second Councilor Arano wants to speak to Alana as soon as possible."

Saoron froze in his tracks and turned around. "Did he say what for?" _'Alana? But why? I was sure that the councilors didn't know about her being the Black Swordswoman.'_

"I don't know," the captain confessed. "He just said it was urgent. Please, get her to see him as soon as she can. Whatever this is, this is even more important than dealing with the ash spawn or even reopening the mines. This is something big and from what you've told me about her, she may be the only one who can do something about it."

Something about his words told Saoron that while things looked good for Raven Rock on the surface, it was about to get much worse. _'Dammit.' _

'_I just hope she's in a listening mood. Talos knows her and the councilor don't get along all that well.'_

"Alright. I'll see what I can do," Saoron replied. "I hope she's in the mood to deal with him."

"For the sake of everyone in this town, I hope so as well."

Saoron took his leave and left the Bulwark behind to see if he could dig up that stash of wine for the captain. _'If the councilors want to speak to Alana, then this is deadly serious. Something's not right here.' _

'_And I keep feeling as though I'm being watched by someone.' _

He reached for the handle of his glass sword and drew it as he saw a flash of movement out from the shadows in the corner of his eye. The tough malachite of his sword met an unusually shaped dagger and he found himself staring at the bright golden gaze of Astrid.

The vampire assassin let out a laugh, lowering her dagger. "More than just a pretty face. I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice me."

"Do you think this is funny or something?" Saoron let out a hiss of frustration. Curse this damn vampire.

"Very." Astrid bared her fangs in a smirk. "Didn't expect you to be the one who was paraded around as the hero of this miserable little settlement."

"What do you want? I'm in no mood for games right now." The Breton rolled his eyes. Why Alana always chose the most complicated ones to be romantically involved with, he didn't know. _'I swear this woman is going to drive me mad.'_

"Isn't our dear Alana supposed to be resting in bed?" Astrid asked silkily.

"Of course. Why?"

"Because she isn't there."

Saoron's blood froze in his veins and he let out a grumble of frustration. "Come on. Let's find her before she does anything stupid."

'_Goddammit Alana. What the hell are you doing now?'_

_**A/N: Next up, more fun with our loveable blonde angst-angel. XD I kinda like that nickname for her now. Think I'll keep it as a running joke when Astrid isn't completely pissed off at her. So, how did their confrontation go? Good? Bad? Tell me what you think!**_

_**C. Strife#5371**_


	11. Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 3

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter eleven! Last chapter we saw Astrid and Alana's long awaited confrontation, which went about as well as I'm sure everyone reading expected lol. For this one, I decided to give some spoils. I like spoiling my audience on occasion.**_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 3***

When Alana woke up from her badly needed slumber, she found herself feeling much more rested than she had been in a long time. For too long she had sleepless nights plagued by her very worst nightmares and for once she could find herself at ease when she awoke. No cold sweat dripping down her body or her throat sore from screaming in the night.

She sat up and let the blanket fall from her chest, stretching her arms up above her head. _'I suppose it's going to take more than words to convince Astrid to calm down.' _She touched her stomach where Astrid had hit her earlier and she winced when she found it was still sore. _'I forgot just how hard she hits. And with my vampire blood running through her veins, she's even stronger now.'_

Astrid reacted about the same way Alana expected her to. She knew Astrid better than just about anyone and vice versa. _'I wonder where she went to. Hopefully not to kill someone; Talos knows the last thing this town needs is a random murder.' _

She knew Astrid well enough to know that she was deadly serious about her promise her murder someone if Alana attempted to take her life again. She half expected Astrid to leave a body in her bed as some sort of threat.

Alana got out of bed and fitted on a plain white shirt and dark pants, looping the belt around her waist. _'For once, my mind is clear and I can actually think about what I want to.' _She went over to one of the many chests in her home and opened it, pulling out a beautifully crafted ebony dagger. The usually cold metal felt warm in her hands and she remembered it being one of the many weapons she had made when she was still part of the Volkihar clan in Skyrim. As a superior blacksmith to the castle blacksmith Hestla, she toiled many long hours into making the weapon as deadly sharp as possible. It saved her life during the power struggle of the ancient vampire court, having been the weapon she used to slit Vingalmo's throat when he attempted to murder Serana.

She balanced the tip of the blade on her finger for a few brief moments before sheathing it and securing it to her belt. She didn't think anyone would be bold enough or stupid enough to try and assassinate her in broad daylight after the attempt to poison her failed, but it never hurt to be cautious during trying times like these. _'After that last attempt on my life, I ought to start carrying some sort of protection on me.'_

Saoron was gone, possibly assisting the Redoran Guard with yet another task; it seemed like he was lending them his sword pretty much every day now. The blonde supposed it couldn't be helped. They had been stretched thin at certain times over the past year and they desperately needed the sword of another skilled warrior. Though perhaps with the ash spawn threat finally dealt with they would finally be able to breathe a little easier. Merchants could finally venture out beyond the safety of the Bulwark without having to worry about being burnt to death by one of the wretched abominations.

Alana slipped on a pair of boots and decided to venture out into town. If she was to make true to her promise to Serana, she needed to do everything she could to make sure that things could get better. Not just for her, but for the people she cared about and hadn't lost yet. She still had something worth fighting for.

First thing on her list was try and repair the damage that she had caused to Astrid. _'But the question is, how? How do I do it?' _It wasn't impossible by any means; her mistress couldn't stay infuriated with her forever. But it most definitely was not as simple as cutting down a group of cowardly bandits or cooking a stew. It was a lot, lot, harder. A lesser woman would have given up hope if the lover they still had left hated them.

But Alana was much more than an everyday tavern wench. She was the one Akatosh chose to bear his blood. She was his chosen one, the only one who could be the savior of humankind in Tamriel.

Astrid's words rang in her ears. _"I want Alana back. I want the warrior who could make a god tremble and the woman I fell in love with." _

Maybe it was time she stopped operating in secret under the moniker of 'The Black Swordswoman'. _'Eventually. When the time is right, I'll come forth and reveal myself. But for now, I need to figure out what to do about Astrid.' _

Her stomach growled and she rolled her eyes. No point in thinking on an empty stomach and she didn't particularly feel like going through her supplies for some salted meats and dried fruit. _'I doubt Garyn's stall is open now that it's late. Looks like I have no other choice but the cornerclub.'_

Alana just hoped to the Divines that she wouldn't run into Councilor Arano. She never did get along with the pretentious and arrogant dunmer. He stuck his nose into matters that didn't concern him far too often for her liking.

The blonde Nord walked out into the town's streets and made a beeline for the cornerclub, however she was soon stopped by a young dunmer child. He couldn't have been older than eight or nine years old and he gave her a big smile. "Hey, you're the one I told about what that priest did to me, right?"

"No?" Alana tilted her head to the side. "I don't recall that."

"Are you sure? She was a Nord like you. Had golden eyes like the sun." The boy frowned. "Well, if you see her, tell her I said thank you."

He scurried off towards a few other young dunmer children and Alana felt a sinking sense of dread settle in her stomach. _'Oh gods, what did he tell Astrid? If he told her anything about being abused in some manner, she'd snap.' _Alana was all too familiar with the assault Astrid had to suffer as a child and knew that one of the few things to set the woman off was someone in the same position. If that boy told Astrid that he was being abused by someone, Alana would bet a barrel of whiskey that she would murder them in a heartbeat.

Alana ran a hand through her long hair with a sigh. _'Well, great. So much for today being a day for me to rest.' _She wasn't planning on getting involved with anything that wasn't her business, but this wasn't something she could ignore, was it? _'What would Saoron do if he were here?'_

'…_he'd get Astrid or myself to do the deed and make sure we didn't get caught by the law.' _She huffed in annoyance and continued on her way to the cornerclub, giving a nod of greeting to Milore as she passed by. The alchemist hadn't closed up shop for the night and Alana reached for the alchemy pouch that contained the burnt spriggan wood from her and Saoron's mission to Fort Frostmoth.

"Sorry to bother you, but do you have a few moments?" she asked.

"Of course. Always have a few moments for a friend." Milore smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to tell me what this is and what I can use it for." Alana handed her the chunk of spriggan wood and Milore started to touch different parts of it with a quiet hum.

"Let's see…where did you find this?" Milore asked.

"Saoron found it when he went to Fort Frostmoth," Alana answered, being careful to not reveal her identity yet also not telling a lie. "He wanted to see what kind of potions he could use it for. As the resident alchemist he assumed you would know."

"Well I'll warn you, this is toxic," Milore warned. "Burnt spriggan wood is mainly used to damage an enemy's magicka regeneration, slow them down, or make them weak to fire magic. A few use it to make potions to boost one's alteration magic. Very hard to get. Quite valuable. It's fresh, too."

"Will you buy it? Alchemy isn't something Saoron and I are good with," Alana admitted. The art of brewing potions was one of the few talents she did not have. She could enchant a bow to dish out ice, shock, and fire damage at once and drain an enemy's stamina, make suits of supreme armor that were nigh impenetrable, and pick just about any lock in the world. But for the life of her she could not brew potions.

"Buy it? A perfect chunk of burnt spriggan wood? Oh yes I will." Milore grinned and reached into the pockets of her blue robes to pull out a decent amount of gold. "Here you are. Find any more of it and I'll pay you for your time."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind." Alana counted the coins and set them in her pockets. She stretched her arms above her head and started to walk down the dusty road out of town towards the Earth Stone. It was a pillar of magical energy that gave an incredible gift to one's endurance; however she had no intentions on using it despite the temptation that gnawed away inside her.

She just wanted to take a few moments to actually sit down and take in everything that had happened since Akatosh saved her.

She could feel the power that coursed through her body and it was a very strange sensation compared to vampirism. As a vampire she felt a never ending hunger that constantly burned and yearned for the sweet taste of blood. Now, she could feel as though she was in complete control and felt confident she could do whatever she needed to ensure a victory. It was remarkable.

Alana looked out towards the murky depths of the warm sea and took in a deep breath. The ocean breeze felt great on her skin and she continued on past the Earth Stone until she was right at the edge of the shore. The gentle crashing of the waves lapping against the sea was soothing and she closed her eyes to just listen. It was peaceful, something she never noticed until now.

'_I've spent a year of my life here, but I never noticed just how beautiful this island was,' _she thought. _'For so long I was unable to. My mind was constantly under attack from the daedra and I couldn't even enjoy something as simple as a gorgeous day on the sea.'_

'_Serana would have loved to see this, even if she wasn't a fan of the sunlight at all.'_

The blonde wasn't sure how long she stood there, marveling at the sea. She lost track of time fairly easily and she was snapped out of it by a pair of footsteps behind her. She turned around and saw both Saoron and Astrid standing behind her, the former looking more than a little concerned.

"Alana, what the hell are you doing all the way out here?" he asked, one hand on the handle of his glass sword. "We've been looking for you all over the damned place."

"Just thought I'd go for a bit of a walk. Didn't think it was that big of a deal," she answered with a slight hint of irritation. She wasn't a damned helpless doe who needed to be looked after all the time. She was a warrior who could make an army quake like children. True, her arm was still broken and healing, but she wasn't helpless by any means. If push came to shove she could still fight if needed, albeit with a single dagger instead of her usual zweihander.

"Considering what you just pulled not too damned long ago, it is a big deal," Astrid snapped. "Especially when one takes your past history of neglecting yourself into consideration."

Alana winced a little. _'She's got a point. I have a bad habit of not taking care of myself. By Talos, it's almost pathetic the way I've treated myself.' _"I'm not the same person I used to be."

"Forgive me if words don't exactly convince me," her ex lover hissed.

"Well, I'm not!" Alana snapped back, rising fully. "I'm not even human anymore!"

"Neither am I, thanks to you." Astrid bared her fangs as if she wanted to painfully remind just what Alana did to her, albeit by mistake.

"You don't understand!" Alana let her frustration loose and her power surged through her body, activating the gift bestowed upon her. The large black wing sprung out of her back and she relished a little bit in the brief shock that crossed Saoron's and Astrid's faces.

"Now do you see?" she asked rhetorically. "I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't have a damn say in whether or not I was chosen to save the world! Do you think I wanted to be the savior!? I didn't! But there is no point in me trying to run away from an inescapable fate, so I am going to at least try, whether you like it or not."

Alana turned her back, stroking one of the feathers that lined her single wing. "I'm not asking for your help in my personal vendetta. I know what I did wrong, so I'm going to be the one to make it right."

"You don't have to do it alone," Saoron murmured.

"Apparently I have to according to her." Alana let out a growl.

"That's a damn lie and you know it. You know she's only mad at you because she cares. If she didn't, do you think she'd have bothered to come all this way?" Saoron stood next to her to also look out at the sea, his brown hair ruffling in the breeze. "Don't be so stubborn about this. Show her that you care."

"Easier said than done."

"Is anything worth doing ever easy?"

"…no. You've got a point there," Alana admitted. "It's…it's just hard for me to get used to the fact that the gods chose me. Despite knowing of the things I've done, they picked me to be the one to save Tamriel."

"Are you going to?" Saoron asked.

"I am." Alana's hand felt the handle of her dagger and she drew it, looking at the deadly sharp blade. "I'm going to make amends for what I've done. Starting with what I know needs to be done now."

"That's the Alana I know. Although you might want to be a bit more discreet about that wing of yours, though," Saoron suggested dryly. "I doubt it will do you any good if some random person just happens to pass you by and assume that you're some kind of demon because they saw it."

"Oh haha. Very funny." Alana rolled her eyes and she relaxed, letting it fade away before she faced Astrid. The vampire had been quiet the entire time and Alana took a step forward towards her. "Astrid…I'm sorry."

"What for?" Astrid asked quietly.

"For everything." Alana lowered her head. "For abandoning you. For turning you against your will. For…for trying to assume that everything was my fault. I'm sorry." _'So much to make right. But Akatosh chose me for a reason. He believed I could do this, so I will.'_

"Alana, look at me." Astrid's hand found her cheek, touching the exact same spot where she had slapped her earlier. Alana looked up and saw the same pain in Astrid's bright golden gaze. "I know how much Serana meant to you. Losing her affected you more than anyone else. But doing what you did? Now that was foolish and arrogant."

"I know," Alana admitted. "You were right about that. I just…I just was afraid that you would die as well. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you on top of losing Serana." _'Losing both of them, I wouldn't have had any reason to keep going. I care too much.'_

"You don't need to take on that burden alone." Astrid stroked her cheek. "You think you have it so hard. You hate being alone, so don't shut us out. Especially me."

"I'm sorry…" Gods, Alana felt so damned ashamed of what she did. She could feel the guilt burn in her stomach; she had abandoned her lover and left her to be alone for more than a year without taking her heart into consideration.

"I know. And though I'm still hurt, know that you don't have to get revenge alone. I'll help you."

"Astrid…thank you." Alana wanted to kiss her. The only thing preventing her from doing so was the fact that Astrid still hadn't technically forgiven her for what she did.

"As heartwarming as this all is, there is a reason why I was looking for you," Saoron cut in, stepping towards her. "Councilor Arano wanted to speak to you about something."

'_Arano? What the hell could he want from me? I doubt he knows that I'm the one who went by the Black Swordswoman.' _Alana couldn't help but feel annoyed at the mention of the dunmer noble. She never got along with him from the very first meeting she had with him; he was arrogant and had a habit of looking down at others not of his standing.

"Did he say why?" Alana asked with a sigh. "I'm really not in the mood to deal with him."

"I have no clue. Captain Veleth just passed it on to me." Saoron shrugged. "Look, I know you two have had your differences, but he wouldn't ask for you specifically unless it wasn't important. This could be bigger, even more important than opening the mines or killing the ash spawn."

Alana bit back an irritated grumble and ran a hand through her long hair. "Fine. I'll entertain him for now. Should I get changed first and look more presentable?"

"No. Veleth said he'd be at the cornerclub waiting."

"Alright. I'll go see what the hell he wants."

Alana turned around and started to walk back to Raven Rock, a frown on her face. Why would the Second Councilor want to talk to her of all people? She kept to herself for the most part and barely interacted with the townsfolk save for Milore and Geldis. _'What does he want? There's no way he could've found out; I made sure no one saw me. Veleth only knows because Saoron told him and I doubt the captain would betray a secret so easily.' _

Either she wasn't as careful as she thought she was or Arano was a hell of a lot smarter than she gave him credit for. _'Dammit. Whatever this is, it can't be good.' _She kicked at a lone rock, watching it skip across the ashy ground, and she shielded her eyes as a brief gust of wind kicked up ash and sand. "Damn ash…"

She coughed a bit as some got into her lungs and she really felt the need for a drink. Her throat was practically parched. _'A pint of Geldis' brew ought to chase it away. Perhaps a bite or two to eat while I'm at it; dying made me famished it seems.'_

The blonde really was starting to wish she took better care of herself right now. Her body was not as strong as it was over a year ago, when she could easily take on dragons and other beasts with ease. _'Been only a year and yet that strength started to fade. I need to get it back, whatever it takes. I will not let the daedra win.' _Her fist tightened and she could feel the hot anger start to boil under her skin.

She squelched it immediately. Her father was right; she was prone to acting on her emotion. If she wanted to succeed in fulfilling her destiny, she had to keep a level head. _'Not exactly something I've been good at over my life as the Dragonborn. It didn't take much to anger me and send me into a rage.' _Yet as funny as it sounded, it was probably her rage that kept her alive. Because of it, she survived the civil war and hadn't died against Vaermina's minions.

'_Either it's my skill that has kept me alive or just sheer dumb luck. Not sure which one it is at this point.' _Alana rubbed her shoulder and passed by a few of the Redoran Guard, the three elite soldiers grumbling something about missing an entire stock of alcohol. A faint smile formed on her lips, for it reminded her of the many nights she had spent out in the wilderness with her brothers and sisters in arms in the Stormcloak army. Too often did one of them lose all the ale and mead to a drunken night of debauchery and as commander of the camp at any given time, she usually blamed Sanguine. The daedric prince of debauchery loved seeing that kind of stuff, almost as much as he enjoyed watching Alana fondle the statue of Dibella in Markarth after she foolishly agreed to a drinking contest with him, unaware of who he was at the time. She doubted her goddess forgave her for that one.

Alana reached the cornerclub, giving the guard on duty outside a nod of greeting. The dark elf barely noticed her and kept his eyes straight ahead, letting out a ragged cough. There was an ash storm approaching and it would be better to be inside when it came.

The slight hint of ash that decorated the steps was almost too familiar to her now as she walked inside the cornerclub. True to Saoron's word, Councilor Arano was waiting for her inside. The dunmer noble was wearing his usual brown silk robes and he had a large plate of steak and potatoes in front of him. "Thank you for coming."

"Councilor." Alana forced herself to be polite to him. "What do you want from me?"

"Someone in need of your particular talents." He took a sip of water. "Don't look so surprised; you haven't been as subtle as you think, despite your best efforts."

"Damn. I must be losing my touch then." Alana grimaced. "Alright, so you know who I am. Why do you want me? Why not send Saoron?"

"Because as good of a defender as he's been, he's not a professional daedra hunter. Nor is he a master of being unseen." Arano took another sip. "You are. You've been helping Raven Rock quite a bit and I hate to have to ask anything of you, but I cannot risk Councilor Morvayn being killed."

"He's in danger of being killed? How?" the blonde asked. "I'm listening."

"It's…a personal matter. A rival Great House, House Hlaalu, has placed an assassination contract on his head, seeking revenge for a death of one of their family members ordered by Morvayn himself," Arano explained. "My contacts say that elements from the Ulen family, part of Hlaalu, are ready to strike."

"I'm not an assassin, Adril." Alana rolled her eyes and folded her arms, taking a seat across from him. _'Not anymore at least, but that doesn't concern you.' _"I'm a demon hunter."

"Exactly why I want you to be my eyes and ears around Raven Rock. I need someone who can scout out undetected and report back to me. Geldis can provide you with tips; he's been with us for awhile." Arano went back to eating his food.

"If I were anyone else, I'd tell you that the bounty is on Morvayn's head, not yours. He gave the order and leaders have to deal with those consequences. But I'll see what I can find." Before he could say another word, Alana stood up from the secluded table and made her way over the cornerclub to the barkeep. Geldis looked up when he saw her and was ready to pour her the usual when she shook her head.

"Arano said you could help me," she said.

"Well, well, Adril finally got himself a spy. About bloody time; he's been chasing the Ulens for years." Geldis snorted. "Needs all the help he can get."

"Can you tell me at least why he wants the Ulens? He was rather quiet about it," Alana remarked dryly.

"In about 58 or so, Vilar Ulen came over and attempted to take over the town. He was persuasive enough to lead a coup. Half the bloody town joined his damn side," Geldis said with a disappointed shake of his head. "But he underestimated just how organized the Redoran Guard was. He was caught and executed by Captain Veleth himself."

"You think Adril's mistaken then?"

"No. He's just going about this the wrong way. You see, if you want to catch those slippery little bastards, you have to let them come to you."

Alana's eyebrow rose. "Hm. You've got any ideas?"

"I do." Geldis grinned. "There's an Ulen ancestral tomb, down by the Tribunal Temple. Someone's been leaving ash yams as an offering on the altar inside. I bet if you waited down there, you'll find whoever is responsible and you'll have some answers."

"Why haven't you told Adril this?"

"What makes you think I haven't?" Geldis scoffed. "Anytime Adril and the Redoran Guard made a move, the Ulens were one step ahead of them and didn't show up. The Ulens are smart; they know that Adril will be looking for them. They won't be expecting you."

"Thanks for the tip." Alana reached in her pocket to pay him but the dark elf shook his head.

"You can thank me later if it works. Until then, I'd go up to the tomb and wait to see who's behind this," he replied.

Alana headed on out of the club, but instead of going straight to the tomb, she went to go get changed into her combat attire. She felt the key in her pocket and fished it out to open the door of her house, a small smile on her face as she approached her zweihander. "Ha. Me, stealthy?"

"I think you got the wrong person for the job, Adril." She hefted the behemoth blade in her hand, flexing her shoulder to see how bad it was still broken. Still a bit stiff, even with her remarkable healing abilities, but she'd manage. If anyone could wield a sword of Clockwork's size efficiently with one hand, it was her.

And she was ready to finally be the savior she was meant to be.

_**A/N: Sorry this took longer to come out with than usual. I have been going through a lot of shit as of late and it got hard for me to really continue any of my works.**_

_**Loveless#5371**_


	12. Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 4

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter twelve. I know, I said I would bring in some special treats for this story last chapter. I apologize for not doing that; it honestly slipped my mind. **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 4***

The sun was beginning to set on the island of Solstheim when the boat finally reached the docks. The lone dark elf woman onboard glanced up from her book as she heard the sounds of thick ropes being fastened and stood up, pushing her mage hood off of her head and letting her long mane of thick red hair free. _'Sounds like I'm finally here. Took long enough. With the damn storms on the sea I was wondering if I'd even make it back to my homeland.' _She scoffed a little at that. Seeing as she was practically immortal, it would take more than rough seas to kill her.

She shut her book shut, not before memorizing the page she had left off on, and stood up as a young Nord man with kind grey eyes jumped down below deck to greet her. "Miss, we've arrived at our destination. The captain would like to speak to you about his fare."

"I'm aware." The dunmer rolled her red eyes and brushed passed him, walking up the wooden ladder to the deck of the ship. The captain, a burly Nord with a large beard and equally massive greatsword on his back, glanced up from his task of tying up the ropes when she approached.

"I delivered you here, as promised. Now I expect the same kind of honor from you in return," he said, his accented tone thick with weariness from the tough voyage.

"Of course." The dark elf reached into the pocket of her fine mage robes and pulled out the necessary gold for his fee, not even thinking about double crossing him. He had willingly taken her out to Solstheim without batting an eye when other captains refused to grant her passage. He boasted about how rough waves never bested true Nordic sailors and he did live up to the claim.

"Every septim is there, I assure you," she said when the captain started to count the gold.

"Can't be too sure nowadays," the captain replied gruffly, stashing the gold in one of the pockets in his belted jacket. "Most people who want voyage here are fleeing something, in my experience. That makes them desperate. Desperation makes one prone to irrational thinking."

'_Except I'm not fleeing anything. I'm returning.' _The dark elf bit back a callous remark and instead thanked him for granting her safe passage back to her homeland. "Well I thank you for your kindness. I'll take my leave of you."

She stepped off of the boat, not faltering in her step as it rocked while she disembarked and was greeted by an achingly familiar sight of a soldier in traditional bonemold armor. Solstheim may have not been Vvardenfell, but little sights like this boosted her morale and made her feel more at home.

"Greetings, fellow sister." The soldier nodded his head courteously in her direction. "I trust you had a safe journey?"

"Of course," she replied. "Say what you will about Nords, but they are very proficient helmsmen. Certainly know how to brave the unforgiving seas." _'And in some cases, rather attractive.' _She didn't dare say that aloud in case tensions between Nords and mer were tense in the settlement.

"I hope you enjoy your time here," the guard said with a bit of a cough. Damn ash was flying everywhere thanks to the ocean breeze and some of it was starting to get into her throat as well. "And be on the lookout for the one they call The Black Swordswoman."

"Who?" she asked. "Never heard of such a moniker."

"It's almost all the townsfolk talk about in the cornerclub now," the guard answered. "A Nord woman, wielding an enormous sword, who hunts the daedra and their worshippers alike, is residing here on the island. Supposedly very savage in battle and with a bit of a temper. I'd hate to be anything that got in her way."

'_A daedra hunter? Interesting. Never knew the daedra could garner such hatred from one individual, let alone one who does not traditionally worship them.' _The woman frowned and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out for them then. Is there a cornerclub nearby? The ash has my throat a tad parched and I could use a drink."

"There is. It is right down the road over there," the soldier said, pointing towards the building in question. The redheaded woman smiled and left him to his duty, walking along the dusty streets and to the club. Another guard was standing at the entrance and he stood aside to let her in.

Inside, she could hear the sound of a jovial bard playing a soft tune on his lute and she dusted some ash off of her clothes before taking a seat at the bar. An old dunmer was working it and he set down a pair of glasses. "Hello and welcome to the Retching Netch Cornerclub, milady. What can I get for you?"

"A drink, please. Sujamma, preferably," she requested.

"Coming right up." The barkeep reached under and pulled out a bottle, pouring her a glass and sliding it over to her. "My new recipe. I do hope it is to your liking."

'_I definitely missed the more formal method of speaking,' _the dunmer woman thought as she took a sip of her drink. She was pleasantly surprised by the taste of the liquor and she could tell a lot of hard work and dedication was put into it. _'Quite nice. Smooth like honey and no bitter aftertaste. One could get addicted to this faster than skooma.' _

"You're a newcomer; we don't often get new faces around. What brings you here?" the barkeep asked.

The dunmer woman hesitated. She had wanted to return to Vvardenfell, but there was nothing of her real home left. Most of the island had been destroyed by Red Mountain's eruption almost two hundred years ago; her home was probably little more than a smoldering ruin covered by ash and lava now.

Unfamiliar wetness stung at the corners of her eyes and she could feel the sorrow of seeing Vvardenfell in ruins building in her heart. "I wanted to return home. But seeing as it's been destroyed, I came here." _'I feel as though I could have done something. I was too busy spending the last few hundred years adventuring in Akavir to prevent it. Maybe if I didn't leave, Vvardenfell would still be intact.' _

'_No, I can't blame myself for that. Even if I stayed, there is nothing I could have done to prevent it. It would have happened regardless and I can't change fate, immortal or not.' _She banished the guilt and pain, forcing herself to meet the old dunmer's eyes. "It's…it may not be what I'm used to seeing, but it's still nice here so far."

"Aye. We do our best to try and make do with what we have. Even if this isn't the capital city and goods have been hard to come by at times, we're still proud to call this island our land," he replied.

The woman took another sip of sujamma and heard the clanking of heavy steel boots. She glanced over her shoulder to see a young Breton man, well muscled and with near shoulder length brown hair. He carried a glass sword on the belt of his armor and took a seat, greeting the barkeep with a weary sigh. "Evening, Geldis."

"Master Saoron. I was wondering if you'd pop by," the old dunmer greeted. "Are you planning on heading out again soon? I thought you'd be less busy with the ash spawn threat taken care of."

"One would think," the Breton answered with a chuckle. "Seems to me that there's always something to be done. I'm just about to head over to that shipwreck and find a folio that Cindiri had lost. The damn reavers probably already reached the site and we know Captain Veleth can't afford to send out a patrol that far. Not while wounds are still recovering."

The redheaded elf sized him up and down carefully. _'Tall, for a Breton. Unusually muscled, too. Usually see them as wizards thanks to their magical prowess. Is he just the town's mercenary?'_

No, mercenary didn't seem to fit him. She had run into a few when she was still roaming around Vvardenfell and knew that they were mostly arrogant and boastful, extorting the people for their own gain but lacking any sort of skill to back up those claims. This man seemed to be genuine. _'Town enforcer, perhaps?'_

The Breton man stole a brief curious glance at her but didn't say anything. He could obviously tell she was a foreigner to the settlement, seeing as it was a small town and pretty much everyone knew each other. His silence was a tad unnerving, she'd admit, but it's not like he knew that the one who was once called the savior of Vvardenfell was sitting right next to him. In the rare case if it did come to blows, she could very easily take him down.

He eventually broke his silence, though not before raising a pint of what smelled to be traditional Nord mead. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm new to this land and looking for work." The simple response rolled off her tongue easily. The last bit was a lie; she was not in the settlement looking for work in the ebony mines or making coin as a mercenary. She had come for a reason other than to return home. She had felt a dangerous power shift in magical energy and thanks to her ability of pinpointing sites of magical power, she was able to guess that it was coming from somewhere in Morrowind. Vvardenfell was out of the question, seeing as it was destroyed. But she could feel an overwhelming sense of power from the island. It was thick enough for one to choke on, though with so many adept mages around it was hard to tell who it was exactly.

Still, the raw fury of magical energy was so damn intoxicating. It was akin to the power of a daedric prince or god. The dunmer closed her eyes and drank it in hungrily, letting the magic swirl around her. After a few moments she blinked her ruby red eyes open and found herself looking into the concerned look of the barkeep. "What?"

The barkeep gestured with his hand and she turned to see that the Breton warrior had his hand rested on the handle of his sword and was eyeing her suspiciously. Dammit, had she been found out?

"You're not normal," he said with a low rasp, standing from the bar. "I know you aren't."

Damn, so he picked up the amount of power that radiated from her. She had been not as subtle as she thought. Most mages could tell she was incredibly gifted with magic, but this man in particular could tell she was much more than that. _'Dammit. I'm starting to lose my touch of concealing my power.' _

Before she could open her mouth, he spoke again, this time his voice laced with deadly promise. "I don't care what or who you are, but make trouble here and you'll regret it." He paid for his drink and left the bar as quickly as he entered, leaving her alone with the barkeep.

"Who are you? Seriously," he asked quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to the scene. The few other patrons hadn't noticed the interaction between her and the Breton and were too busy indulging in their own drinks.

The dunmer woman gave him a sad smile, resting her chin in her hands. "I'm afraid that's not something you need to know." _'Not yet, at least. Even then, only a select few should know who I really am. These people don't need to know that the savior who left them for Akavir is once again in their midst. Not to mention any who worship the Tribunal would attack me.' _They'd fail and fail to her blade or magic, of course, but she preferred to avoid unnecessary confrontation. Especially in a small town like this.

"A woman of few words, I see." Geldis sighed and poured himself a mug of his sujamma. "Quite a lot like another one who lives here."

"Oh?" Her curiosity was piqued and she leaned in a little closer. "And who is that?"

"A Nord woman who goes by Alana," he replied evenly. "She came here about a year ago, more miserable than anyone I've ever seen. Pretty much drinks herself nearly unconscious every day since. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate her business; until the ebony mines were reopened thanks to Saoron's discovery and the ash spawn threat was taken care of, she was pretty much keeping us afloat. But I hate taking advantage of someone else's pain."

The redhead could hear the sympathy in Geldis' tone. She had been in the same spot once. Finding out who she was and meant to do had taken its toll on her; Balmora had been a frequent stop for her to drink and wish she could fade away from her destiny. However, only a rather stern lecture from the great wizard of House Telvanni, Master Neloth, had snapped her out of her funk and pushed her to do what she was born to do. She saved all of Vvardenfell and Morrowind from Dagoth Ur. She did what she had to.

'_Perhaps I could meet her. I know what it's like to be in that situation, perhaps more than anyone.' _The Nerevarine raised the glass to her lips and finished her drink. It looked like she would be staying here on Solstheim for a little bit longer.

* * *

Fully clad in her combat attire, Alana crept into the Ulen Ancestral Tomb, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. Clockwork hung behind her in the holster and she brushed a loose strand of her long hair away. _'Didn't think when I came here that I'd ever be the one investigating a potential assassination plot. All I wanted was a place to die.' _

'_Funny how fate has a way of throwing a complete wrench into everything.' _The blonde warrior approached the altar and saw that a few ash yams were indeed lying on it as an offering. She knelt down and brushed them aside, waiting for her surprise visitor. She honestly wasn't expecting anyone to show up.

But twenty minutes later, she was proved wrong.

A dunmer woman wearing fine green robes quietly walked into the tomb with a handful of ash yams as her burden. _'Someone's here. But who?' _Alana waited with baited breath as the dunmer approached and once she came into view, the blonde was able to see just who it was.

It was Tilisu Severin, one of the wealthier residents on the island.

'_Tilisu? But why would she be in here? Makes no damn sense.' _Alana didn't move in case her location was discovered; instead she sat and watched as the old dunmer noblewoman placed a bunch of ash yams on the altar and began to meditate at it. Her ruby red eyes were closed and she let out a soft hum as she meditated.

Alana had seen enough to suspect her now. _'Another noble family here, wealthier beyond their dreams and with enough charisma to easily sway the population in their favor. This isn't good.' _Her hands came to life with magic and as silently as she could she cast Invisibility.

She vanished as quickly as the wind and slipped out of the tomb, closing it behind her. She had some information to give to Adril now and had to warn him. _'It was her leaving the offerings. Perhaps she's tied with the Ulen family in some way.' _

She was lucky to run into Adril as he was about to retire to his manor for the night; the blonde quickly approached him as her spell wore off and the dunmer looked at her. "So, have you found out any information?"

"Yes." Alana nodded. "I have reason to suspect that Tilisu Severin is the culprit."

"Tilisu?" Adril's eyebrows rose skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"She was in the tomb leaving offerings." Alana shrugged. "Geldis' plan worked."

"Bout bloody time." Adril snorted. "Every time I or the Redoran Guard showed up, no one was there. But that isn't enough to incriminate them. I need to have solid evidence and can't afford to kick anyone's doors down. If I accuse them without evidence, I'll be the laughing stock of the colony."

'_Oh trust me, you're already that by a long mile,' _Alana thought dryly. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Search their house for any kind of evidence," Adril said. "If you have it in hand and they try to stop you, do not hesitate to defend yourself. Here's the key to the manor; it should prove to be useful if they locked the door, which if what you've said is true, they'll have done so already."

"…so you're afraid of being made out paranoid, but you're more than willing to send someone else in for your dirty work? Bit hypocritical, isn't it?" The blonde scoffed.

"Alana, now is not the damn time. Councilor Morvayn's life may be in danger and I'm not about to risk it!" he hissed. "If they attack you, then by all means do what you do best."

"I'm a daedra hunter, not a murderer," Alana snapped back. "While you're resting in a comfortable bed, I'm out there keeping you safe from threats even worse than the damned ash spawn. Or, I'm sorry, would you prefer if the daedra ran over everyone here?"

"I…" The defiance in Adril's eyes faded away and he closed them, clearing his throat. "Apologies. I have been rather rude and dismissive of you. You are right; we owe you a great deal of gratitude. We all do."

"Don't. I don't want any of it." Alana looked down at the ground. "You had every right to be suspicious of me, from the first time I visited over a year ago." _'I might have not been strong enough to save Serana. But I can prevent it from happening again. Despite me wanting to die, I managed to forge friendships with the people here who welcomed me with open arms. I can't repay that kindness, but I can keep them safe.' _

She took the key from Adril's hand and started off across town, calling over her shoulder. "I'll get the evidence. In the meantime, don't leave Morvayn's side until this is over. We can't leave him unguarded." _'The second you do, whoever's behind this will strike.' _

She looked at the key given to her and smirked a little to herself. It was funny for him to think that she was going to go for the subtle approach. One thing she couldn't be, even in her time in the Thieves Guild, was be subtle. Even Brynjolf laughed about how someone who was supposed to be a thief caused so much noise during a job.

The blonde kept one hand on the handle of Clockwork and she approached the manor. The door would definitely be locked; in the time she took to talk to Councilor Arano, Tilisu probably ran to her manor and alerted her husband and daughter. If she was in on it, her family definitely was too. Possibly a three on one fight, but she had much worse odds and she wasn't anywhere near as strong back then.

When she reached the manor, she felt the knob to see if it was indeed locked. It didn't budge and Alana smirked. "Perfect." She withdrew Clockwork, the massive blade gleaming, and she swung the heavy sword as hard as she could. The thick wood splintered upon the blade striking it and she stepped in through the ruins to greet the startled Severin family. "Oh, hello. Am I interrupting?" _'Subtlety was never my strong suit. No point in pretending to be that.'_

"Morvayn will die!" Tilisu snarled, drawing a glass dagger. "For House Hlaalu!" Her daughter Mirri did the same, one hand becoming alive with lightning.

It was almost laughable to think the two had a hope in Oblivion of beating her. Alana merely sighed, almost out of pity. "I give you two choices. Either one, you come quietly and admit to it, or two, I kill you and get the evidence anyway. I sniffed you out easily enough." _'Either way, they're done for.'_

The two dunmer women leapt at her and she sighed. "Well, don't say I never offered you a choice." Her sword flashed in an arc and cut Mirri down first with a savage strike to her shoulder. The heavy sword easily tore through ribbons of flesh and bone, blood splattering the cold steel. The dark elf's dismembered limb flew through the air and landed on the ground with a wet thump, some of the blood splattering onto the blonde's cheeks.

Mirri's body didn't even hit the floor before Tilisu howled with rage. "You murdering bitch! House Hlaalu will see you burn!"

Alana let out a scoff and ducked under a predictable lunge, slamming the handle of her sword into Tilisu's throat. The older dark elf sputtered and coughed, dropping her dagger, and Alana pressed her edge. Another vicious swing later and Tilisu's headless corpse dropped to the ground, joining her daughter in death.

Alana looked at the two bodies and noticed a pair of keys dangling out of Mirri's robes. _'This is almost too easy. Come on, they could've put a bit more care into their plots. The Dark Brotherhood would laugh at how terrible it is.' _

She could remember their detailed and intricate plot to assassinate the Emperor of Tamriel. Everything was so carefully planned out and it was designed to be perfect. The only problem with it was Arnbjorn's furious envy of Astrid and Alana's relationship and he betrayed them all, foiling their perfectly laid ambush. Despite being a murdering assassin, Alana didn't regret being in the guild of assassins because she met someone she truly did care about. _'I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm much different. I'm no longer running away. I'm doing what I should have done and taking sword in hand.' _

After she was done destroying this plot, she was going to return back to Skyrim to do something she should have done before she fled. She was going to honor the previous love of her life the only way she knew how to.

Alana twirled the keys on her finger and went downstairs to the basement, not paying attention to how beautiful the interior of the house actually was despite her literally breaking the door down. She had to search the house for evidence and that was it.

The blonde's piercing gaze spotted a safe in the very back of the house and she strode over to it, her boots kicking up a light dusting of ash in her wake. With the keys in hand she easily opened the safe, pulling out a letter marked, 'The Ulen Matter', and she opened it to read its contents. "Gotcha."

_Dear Councilor Saldin, _

_In a manner of days I believe we'll be ready. Our forces hidden within Ashfallow Citadel have been training night and day, ready to strike when we are given the signal. With Captain Veleth distracted by the ash spawn attacks, the timing seems perfect. I've waited nearly a decade to exact my revenge upon __Lleril Morvayn__ for the death of my ancestor and a long for the moment my blade will be drawn across his throat. The next letter you'll receive from me will include his head in a sack. Display it proudly in the halls of House Hlaalu, brother. _

_Vendil Ulen _

"You're really not as clever as you like to think," Alana muttered dryly before pocketing the letter. She had everything she needed to convict them of their crimes and didn't have to worry about breaking and entering or murder for killing both Mirri and Tilisu. _'For all their supposed clever planning, they really did slip up by leaving offerings in the Ulen tomb. Anyone with a brain could spot that something was up. But Ashfallow Citadel? Where the hell is that?'_

She decided to ask the councilor that when she went back to him. For now, she rested her heavy broadsword on her shoulder and walked out of the manor, stepping over the two bodies of the dunmer women she had slain. She would have preferred if they surrendered but her hand had been forced. She didn't have a choice but to strike them down before they could bring harm.

Alana folded the note and slipped it into her pants before being greeted by the worried face of Councilor Arano. "Alana? What the hell happened here? I thought I gave you the key!"

"Subtlety was never my strong suit." The blonde shrugged. "Before you give me a lecture, yes I have evidence. Here." She handed them the note and jerked her thumb back towards where the fallen bodies of Mirri and Tilisu lay. "By the way, judging by the way those two back there reacted, I doubt they're going to come quietly."

"Good. We can't afford to let these traitors slip away," Arano replied evenly. Even though he was a councilor, it appeared he didn't have a problem with getting his hands dirty after all. Maybe she misjudged him a little bit. "I'm going to send two of our Redoran Guard to assist you in taking them down. Get to Ashfallow Citadel as fast as you can, and be careful; the fortress has been abandoned for years but there's no telling what could be lurking within."

'_Unless they have the equivalent of a human god with them, I doubt they stand a chance.' _It wasn't so much arrogance; rather, it was more of a calm certainty. She already knew the outcome. She'd go in, slaughter whoever the hell was aiding the Ulen family, and walk out with little more than a scratch or two on her. She was Akatosh's chosen savior after all.

"Will do." Alana ran a hand down the side of Clockwork almost affectionately. "Though I'd prefer to work alone. The ash spawn may have been taken care of, but the reavers and Talos knows what else are still crawling on the island. You don't need any casualties."

"Are you sure?" the councilor asked hesitantly. "They are elite soldiers more than capable of handling themselves in battle."

"I'm sure. No offence, councilor, but I really don't need any kind of support. If it's a grave threat more serious than hired thugs or bandits, then they'd only get in the way," Alana answered.

"Very well. Best of luck to you."

"I'll be back."

These traitors weren't going to know what hit them.

_**A/N: And that is it for this one. The introduction of the Nerevarine was honestly the trickiest bit to do, because I wasn't sure how I was going to go about it. Next up is the long trek to the citadel, seeing Master Neloth's tower, and the return of an old villain. See you!**_

_**Cal II 141#5371**_


	13. Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 5

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to the next chapter of Whispers of the Night. I do apologize for my delay; I have sadly been working a lot more hours recently and have been preoccupied with a lot of other stories, meaning I don't have as much time to write for this as I want to. I am trying to get more of this out to start 2020, though, so hopefully we can get to at least into the beginning of the final arc. **_

_**I should probably have said this earlier, but this arc will most likely end up being the longest one. There's just so much to do and we haven't even started the main storyline for the Dragonborn DLC. I admit that's my fault and I keep getting sidetracked with constant exploration, but hey, I like my world to have depth to it. Plus Solstheim is a lot of fun to explore! **_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 5***

Alana shielded her eyes as the ocean winds whipped up a layer of ash, temporarily blinding her. She grimaced and bit back an annoyed hiss, continuing to trudge through the ashy wastes towards the citadel where the Ulens' forces lay. _'On days like these, I really do wonder why the hell I decided to come all the way here. Then I remember the guilt that forced me to do so.' _

She wouldn't lie to herself; she did still feel somewhat guilty about Serana's death. But she knew it wasn't her fault. Serana had chosen to protect her out of her own free will. _'She made her choice, and I've made mine. I may not like it, but it's the truth.' _

She spotted a rustle of movement out of the corner of her eye and out from the ashy soil popped out one of the island's more prevalent creatures, an ash hopper. The insect wasn't very difficult to get rid of and its shell was used to make chitin armor, but a single bite from one was enough to pass on the disease known as droops. It sapped away at the victim's strength, leaving them weary in battle. Not particularly deadly like brain rot or rockjoint, but it would definitely be a nuisance if she caught it.

Rather than taking that risk, she reached for the crossbow that always dangled from one of the belts on her vest and grabbed nothing but air. Alana cursed herself for such a mistake. In her haste to find out those plotting the assassination she neglected to grab her choice of ranged weaponry. _'Well, great. Looks like I don't have a choice for this one. Dammit.' _

'_Or do I?' _It had been a very long time since she bothered to use her magic, preferring to rely on her sheer brute strength alone. However that power still coursed through her veins, meaning she was capable of it. She just had to try. _'Been forever since I attempted to use my magic. But Father said I still have that power inside me. I hope he's right.'_

Alana focused her magic until it was beginning to flow like blood to her fingertips and they became covered in an icy aura. With enough power built up she thrust her palm forward and a single jagged spike of ice left her hand. The Ice Spike spell wasn't as powerful as she had hoped, but it did the job of killing the insect before it got close enough to bite her. It easily punctured its tough exoskeleton and it fell in pieces, bits of it rolling down the ash.

Alana let her hand fall and let out a soft breath, relieved she was still capable of at least apprentice level magic. She wasn't as skillful with it as Saoron was; the man could easily take on an experienced necromage and win. Even for a Breton, he had a remarkable grasp of magical theory. _'My magic is still there. I just have to learn how to use it again. I should see if Saoron and I can spar with it, just to get my strength back to where it once made even powerful mages envious.'_

Alana was at that point once, when she was still the Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold. Savos Aren himself often praised her abilities, saying she had the makings of being more than worthy to perhaps succeed him. She inevitably did when he and Mirabelle Ervine were killed by that traitorous bastard Ancano, but she only took the position when Tolfdir turned it down, saying her skills were better than his. That may have been true, particularly her skill in both destruction and illusion based magic. But his knowledge of the alteration school was unmatched. She was able to see why he was considered one of the very best in Tamriel before his untimely passing.

The blonde let a smile appear on her face as she recalled some of the many conversations she had with him. Not just about magic, but about life experiences in itself. He had essentially been a second father to her, even though he was much older than her own. Many times she had gotten back to the college after destroying magical anomalies and found the old Nord waiting for her in the Arch Mage's quarters with a hot meal and that grandfatherly smile on his face. _'Honorable and loyal to the end. I hope you found peace in Sovngarde.'_

Alana continued on her way through the ashlands and she felt her heartbeat speed up when she saw the ruins of Fort Frostmoth loom in the distance, their height attempting to puncture the sky. This was the same spot where she took her own life. The blonde eyed the tower she had jumped from and she remembered just how desperately Saoron had tried to save her from it. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine and she banished the horrifying memories to the back of her mind.

'_No. I'm not the same. I'm not a weak girl running away from her past. I'm Akatosh's chosen one.'_ She shook her head and took a deep breath. _'And I refuse to let the daedra dictate my life anymore.' _Alana would fulfill her promise to Serana.

She walked along the sandy beaches when she suddenly started to hear the sounds of fiery explosions. _'What the hell is that? Sounds like someone's casting a Fireball spell.' _She couldn't think of anyone who'd come all the way out here just to practice magic. Her hand found the handle of Clockwork and she tightened her grip on it as she approached the sounds.

She peeked over the edge of a large ash dune and ducked back down to avoid a wave of Ice Storm magic. _'That was a lot closer than I would have liked.' _With an annoyed growl rumbling in her throat she looked over again to see two Bretons throwing adept level destruction spells at each other. Both were in the traditional black robes of necromancers and they yelled curses as their spells continued to hit their opponent's wards.

'_Necromancers. I should just let them fight and wait until one of them is killed before I strike.' _She narrowed her eyes. The remaining one would be weaker and make it easier for her to dispose them. But she was meant to be more than just a warrior. She was Akatosh's chosen savior, on her very way to divinity.

'_Remember what Akatosh said to me. Use my powers not as a means to destroy the daedra. See them as a means to protect.' _Alana carefully drew her massive sword, the broad triangular blade gleaming with deadly promise, and she leapt from her cover to join the fray. Both necromancers were too busy attacking each other to notice her and she was able to cut down the first with a mighty swing. Clockwork's heavy blade cut through his torso, cleaving him in half and spraying blood everywhere.

The two severed halves of his body hit the ground and his fiery magic died with him. The mage wielding ice stared for a brief moment in both shock and horror before coming to her senses, casting two Ice Spear spells at her. Alana spun her sword in her hands to block the magical attacks and rushed the mage, kicking up ash in her wake.

With one heavy swing Alana split her in half at the waist, the necromage's eyes bulging in shock. She wobbled a few steps forward and fell in two separate pieces, her magic dying. The blonde warrior watched as blood slowly dripped off of Clockwork's blade and spun it above her head before sliding it back into its sheathe.

"May you find atonement in the next world." Alana's hand glowed with magic and she let loose a blinding light from her fingertips. Ribbons of white magic swirled around the two fallen bodies and enveloped them. It felt much different from the magic she was used to casting. Illusion spells such as Invisibility made her shiver, whereas destruction spells like Fireball or Ice Spike made her body burn. This magic felt very, very strange. A slight burning sensation nipped at her fingertips but she made no effort to cease. Instead, she closed her eyes and continued. It was cleansing in a way.

When the magic died from her hands she opened her eyes to see that the two bodies had been reduced to shimmering piles of white sand. _'Is this what I can do as Akatosh's chosen one?' _She knelt down to study the sand and scooped up a handful of it, letting it fall between her fingers. It was lighter to the touch than the blankets of ash she was accustomed to seeing and something about it gave off the idea that it was purified. No evidence of corruption of any sorts was able to be found.

'_Interesting. I never knew I was capable of this kind of magic.' _She stood up and let the sea winds ruffle her hair. _'I've been so focused on thinking I could only use my powers as a way to kill and further my own end. But now…now I can save others from a horrible fate.' _

Alana felt her lips turn upwards and she was a little confused by it. A smile was something she was not completely familiar with, due to her past experiences. The only ones who got to see a genuine smile from her were Saoron, Astrid, Brynjolf, Ulfric, and Serana. And yet here she was, a genuine smile on her face. _'How long has it been? It feels like it's been years. I guess being dead for a day makes the past seem longer.'_ Even though it was only a few days ago that she was being constantly plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, it felt so damn long ago. She felt like a different woman.

Alana supposed she was, in a way. She was the same person, but with no outside influences to make her think she was constantly under attack. No dark voice telling her she needed to die, no haunting whispers that kept her awake at night, nothing. It was a lot more soothing than she was used to as of late.

She could spot a trio of netch floating over the ocean by the coastline, dipping their long tentacles into the tainted waters to find weeds and other plant life to feast on. The creatures didn't even turn in her direction to take notice of her, continuing to feed.

She turned away from them and continued on to the citadel where the traitors dwelled. The letter said they had plenty of forces training in the building, but she doubted they would prove to be much of a threat. She had slain a hundred of the Empire's finest soldiers in one night singlehanded and defeated one of the world's most powerful vampire lords with a broken arm. She could easily handle whatever lurked within the crumbling tower's ruins. _'Arano was right in choosing me for this task. As good of a fighter Saoron is, even he would have trouble handling more than five opponents at once.'_

The Breton man was probably being called to help defend the settlement in case any stragglers managed to escape her. He was better suited for defense than offense. In a way, he was completely the opposite of Alana. He was the shield to her sword, defending while she attacked. It was why they worked so damn well as a team. She could trust Saoron to provide cover for her while she went in sword swinging and vice versa. They always had each others' backs from the time they were kids.

Alana walked through the ash wastes and came across a massive mushroom structure. It loomed at least a hundred feet high, its massive canopy providing it protection against the elements, and she could see several doors located in various spots in its vast trunk. _'Wow. What the hell is this place? Is this the home of the Telvanni wizard Saoron mentioned when we found that book in Raven Rock Mine?' _

Just outside she could see a young dunmer mage flicking through the pages of a dirty and beaten up old book, mumbling in annoyance. His hand glowed with conjuration magic and he stomped the ground in frustration. "Why won't this summoning work!?"

'_Must be the wizard's apprentice. I seriously doubt that a master wizard would have trouble with summoning something,' _she mused. Behind her, a strange insect-like creature let out a low growl, and she eyed it suspiciously. It didn't appear threatening, but she knew looks could be very deceiving. Another dark elf sat next to the creature, eyeing it with fondness that one would give their child.

'_Suppose it couldn't hurt to get better directions than the ones I was given.' _She shrugged and approached the dunmer and he cracked a smile when he saw the blonde warrior approaching him.

"I take it you've never seen a silt strider before?" he asked.

"No." Alana shook her head. "What is it?" _'Silt strider? I've never heard of them. Must be a creature only native to Morrowind.' _It wouldn't surprise her all that much; plenty of the creatures she encountered on the island in the year she had lived here were only found in Morrowind, such as ash hoppers or netch.

"They used to be commonplace all over Vvardenfell. They were used primarily as transport for people and goods on the island," he explained. "However, that was centuries ago before Red Mountain erupted. The blast wiped most of them out. I found old Dusty here hiding in a cave. A silt strider has a very tough exoskeleton that can block out the elements. I came here and she's retired now. A few people come by to get a look at her, but most travelers are looking for Master Neloth in Tel Mithryn over there." He pointed at the giant mushroom structure.

"Tel Mithryn? That's where the Telvanni wizard lives?" Alana's eyebrow rose a little skeptically. "He lives in a giant mushroom?" _'I've seen plenty of strange things in my life. But that seems a little farfetched. How could anyone live in something like that?'_

"That's right," he answered. "Only master wizards of House Telvanni know how to create such a thing."

"I see." Alana brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. "I need to find Ashfallow Citadel. Where is it? The directions I was given…weren't exactly clear, if you get my meaning."

"The old fortress? Why, it's right over there." He pointed into the distance, just beyond what appeared to be another standing stone. "Keep walking northeast after you pass the Sun Stone and you'll find it. Not hard to miss. Should be a twenty minute walk from here."

'_Twenty minutes? Good, I'm almost there. As pretty as this island is, I can't stand walking through this damn ash. It gets bloody everywhere.' _She briefly took off one of her boots to shake some ash out of it, coughing as some of it got in her lungs.

"Thanks," she rasped, clearing her throat to get rid of the dryness. It did nothing; her throat remained completely parched and the dunmer chuckled before going through his crate. He tossed her a bottle full of some kind of liquid and Alana eyed it skeptically. "What is this?"

"Sujamma. Picked some up from Geldis the last time I was in Raven Rock," he replied. "Nothing better for quenching one's thirst in these parts."

Alana took the cork out of the bottle, fully prepared to let it soothe her sore throat, but she hesitated. _'I definitely shouldn't be drinking. Not now. I need to have my head clear if I'm to come out of the citadel alive.' _She put the cork back in and shook her head. "Do you have anything else? Water would do just fine."

"If you say so." The elf shrugged and took the liquor back, handing her a bottle of water instead. "Had this imported from Skyrim. Gjalund was kind enough to send me some after I put in a request for some for Dusty. The waters around these parts are too tainted for her to drink."

Alana glanced over at Red Mountain across the sea, her lips curving into a small smirk as she opened it. "I worked that out on my own, funnily enough." _'The only source of clean water is in the glaciers on the northern side of the island. But I seriously doubt anyone is going to be willing to trek all the way out there just to grab a drink.' _

She took a swig, feeling the liquid pour down her throat. It was lukewarm from sitting in the sun for who knows how long, but to her it was the most refreshing water she ever tasted. It still held the slight tinge of a well in Skyrim, bringing back some feelings of homesickness. Her heart yearned for her to return to her home, but she knew she couldn't leave. Not yet at least. _'There are still some things I need to do before I can go back. One of them is of course stopping this assassination plot. The other is mending my relationship with Astrid.'_

Alana went to reach for some of the gold coins in her pockets when the dark elf shook his head. "Don't worry about paying me. I can tell you're busy. You have the look of purpose in your eyes."

The blonde blinked in surprise a few times but lowered her head for a moment. "Alright. Thank you. I'll be off."

She turned her back to him and started to walk in the direction he pointed to earlier. _'I want to get there before another ash storm closes in.' _The blonde's hand found the handle of her zweihander and she rubbed it along the length, the cool metal comforting to her gloved touch. It reminded her just how far she had come and how far she had to go to complete her destiny.

'_I've done many things. I've slain Alduin and won a civil war. And yet fate had more in store for me. The Divines themselves want me to become the Tenth Divine. The daedric princes are terrified of what I'm capable of. Good. I fell to them once. Never again. I'll never let them dictate my life ever again.' _

Her fist tightened around the handle of her mighty sword and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. _'No. I can't continue to let my rage fuel me. It's good to have emotion to remind me that I'm still myself. But I can't let them control me anymore.' _

She let her anger slip away and replaced it with an icy calm determination. She would have to continue to use it to see everything through.

A green pillar of light was shining into the sky ahead and she frowned. '_There's some kind of magical energy ahead. It looks a lot like the energy that comes from the Earth Stone outside of Raven Rock. Another Standing Stone?' _Alana closed her eyes and tried to use her own power to detect it. Sure enough, it gave off the same energy as the Earth Stone. However, whereas the Earth Stone was rumored to gift one the ability to have the hide of a powerful dragon, giving them immunity to most damage, this stone gave off an aura of fire.

She closed her eyes as she walked closer to it, drinking in the stone's power. It radiated hotter than the sun, scorching all in its wake, and she heard a soothing whisper in her head. **Sun Flare**. Her chest burned hot, hotter than it should have, and she winced as the burning sensation spread throughout her body. _'What the hell is this!?' _

Alana stopped in front of the stone pillar and touched it. A glowing emblem shaped like the sun was carved onto it and she could feel the heat of fire surrounding her. _'What does this let me do? Is it similar to the master fire spells?' _She didn't know how to use it, but she was certain she would find something to test it out on eventually. _'Just what are these damn stones? They are nothing like the Standing Stones in Skyrim. If it has an emblem like this one it, I assume this is called the Sun Stone?' _

Alana left it behind and continued on her way to the citadel. She wasn't far off now; the castle was looming into view behind the cover of an approaching storm and she shielded her eyes as the wind kicked up ash into her face. _'For Talos' sake. It never ends, does it? I wonder if I can clear this up a bit and make it easier to see.'_

It had been awhile since she used Clear Skies, but she knew she still had the power inside her to do so. Her lips parted and the ancient Nordic art dripped off of her tongue. **"Lok Vah Koor!"** The air crashed with thunder as the Shout rippled in the sky above. Sure enough, the storm started to dissipate and she could breathe a little easier. _'Well, that's that taken care of. Hopefully Clear Skies can keep the damn storm away for a bit.' _Alana did not want to go back to Raven Rock covered head to toe in ash looking as if someone attempted to bury her in it. She had a feeling Astrid would laugh for days if she saw her like that.

'_Oh please. Astrid could probably use a laugh or two. I thought being moody was my job, not hers.' _She rolled her eyes and eventually she reached the steps leading up the fortress's courtyard. They were crumbling and covered with a mixture of ash and blood, the blonde grimacing at the smell of death. Even though she had fought in the war, the stench of rotting flesh was still not something she could tolerate for very long periods of time. _'Another way to remind myself I'm not a monster. Only a beast kills without feeling. I said that to Ralof when we met up in Falkreath and we talked about the Battle for Whiterun. Funny how it remains true, even more than two years later.' _

She closed her eyes and stood still, listening for any signs of movement. She could hear something moving about in the ash and she knew she wasn't alone. _'Someone's here. Good. I could use a proper fight.' _

Her hand gripped Clockwork's handle and she drew the massive weapon. "I know you're there. You're not as subtle as you like to think."

Alana whirled around as she heard someone sprinting, her attacker yelling out at her. "For the Tong!"

The blonde parried the blow with ease and clicked on the handle to spring the second sword free. _'The Ulens hired the Morag Tong? Seriously? I thought they only dealt with corrupt officials and the Dark Brotherhood!' _

She pushed the dunmer assassin back, taking a quick swipe at her. The elf barely ducked under it, part of the chitin helmet being shaved clean off by the aetherium treated blades. _'So, you might be a little bit faster that I initially expected. However it's not enough to prevent your death.' _

Alana lashed out with the handle of her zweihander, catching the assassin in the throat. She dropped her elven sword and clutched her throat, coughing and sputtering. _'It's over.' _Alana raised her sword up and cut her in two with a jagged diagonal cut through her torso. Her strength and Clockwork's size allowed it to cut through the lightweight chitin armor with ease, the blonde letting out an unimpressed scoff. _'Pitiful. And the Morag Tong is supposed to be able to compete with the Dark Brotherhood? Give me a break. Astrid could wipe the floor with these idiots.' _

Alana let the blood drip off the blade and she pushed the door to the fortress open. It slid open with a creak and Alana waited to see if anyone else would come running. Silence answered her. _'Nothing. They must be further inside. They seriously only had one sentry outside to watch the perimeter? Their incompetence is remarkable. How did no one spot this earlier? This isn't exactly the most subtle or carefully laid out assassination plot.' _

The blonde warrior rolled her eyes and she stepped inside. The floor was covered in a blanket of ash and several thick chains dangled from the ceiling. A small wooden chest was lying on the stony floor and to her right was a spiral staircase leading down into the bowels of the crumbling citadel.

Alana walked down the staircase quietly and smiled when she saw a single Morag Tong assassin standing idly by a passageway. He was leaning against the wall, humming a low tune, and he looked up when he saw the blonde with sword in hand.

"Who are you!? Answer me!" he demanded. His hands flew to the glass dagger on his belt, but Alana was much faster. The smaller of her two swords impaled him in the chest and his helmet fell off. A thin trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and he looked down at the silver steel imbedded in him. "N-no..."

"I am the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood," Alana answered quietly, withdrawing the bloodstained weapon. "Hmph. Not like you can hear me anymore, can you?" His body slumped to the floor and she continued on through the passage.

Cobwebs grew everywhere and she curled her lip in annoyance as some of the sticky white strands clung to her. _'Disgusting. At least there are no bloody spiders around here.' _If there was one thing she hated fighting more than Vaermina's demons, it was bloody spiders. She didn't have a fear of them, but they were just so damn _persistent_. Frostbite spiders could live practically anywhere if they put their minds to it and some of them were massive. She remembered the one she killed that lurked in the ruined tower of Castle Volkihar; it was ancient and starving, making it one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Skyrim. She honestly didn't think there were enough fire spells to get rid of the damn thing.

The tunnel opened up into a larger hallway and the blonde sighed as three members of the Morag Tong charged her. _'They never learn. Why do they insist on charging in to try and take me down? It's not going to work.' _"You want a fight? Then let's go. Bring it on."

The first one let out a frenzied yell and swung her iron sword. Alana moved her head and let it brush past her face, clicking her tongue and countering with a heavier strike from her main sword. The two pieces of metal clashed and the force of the blow was enough to make the assassin drop her weapon.

She clutched her wrist, having been shaken by the sheer force alone, and she leapt for her sword. Alana's second sword flashed and the blade protruded from the dunmer's skull. Alana yanked it out and the first assassin was dead. Her body hadn't even hit the floor before the other two attempted to take the blonde down.

Alana spun and let both of their swords hit the broad blade of her zweihander. "Not bad. But not good enough." She heaved her weapon up to make them stumble and Alana whirled around with a hard kick. Her boot hit one in the stomach and she twisted, breaking the ribs.

He collapsed and spat out a mouthful of blood, now disabled. He wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon and Alana could use him for information.

The other had gotten up to her feet and swung her sword. Alana's zweihander met the blade and she shoved her back. _'Right. That's enough defense for me.' _Being cool and precise was never her style in combat.

Alana went on the offensive, swinging her mighty blade with incredible power. The assassin was forced back as the blonde's savage strikes became harder and harder to parry, the dunmer becoming sloppier and sloppier.

Alana's blade met its mark and the assassin screamed in pain as her arm was separated from the rest of her body. The severed limb fell to the ground with a wet thump and blood sprayed out of the wound. She clutched the mangled stump that remained and Alana swung again. The assassin's headless body toppled and Alana put Clockwork back together.

She stalked over to the assassin still alive and she seized him by his throat, slamming him into the wall. He groaned in pain, his helmet falling from his head, and his ruby red eyes met stormy blue. "Y-you…bitch. You won't…you won't get away with this!"

He coughed up more blood as Alana's fist thumped into his chest, groaning in agony. The blonde didn't let him go and her eyes narrowed. "How many of you are there? Lie to me and your life is forfeit."

"Ha…don't make me laugh." His breaths were mere wheezes now. "Y-you'll kill me anyway…"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I can help you, or I can kill you. Your choice." Alana's grip didn't falter. "Now tell me what I want to know."

"T-there five more, including Vendil!" he gasped out. "T-they're at the very back of the citadel! That's all, I swear! Y-you'll let me go, right?"

Alana hummed. She didn't need to take any more lives than was necessary. She was not a rampaging monster who slew everything in her path. She was a savior. If she could be redeemed after what she had done, perhaps he could too.

She let him go and handed him a health potion to repair the damage she had done. "Leave this place. Now." _'No need to kill him. If I can be a savior, even after the things I did, then anyone can atone for their sins.' _

"Y-you kept your word…" The dunmer struggled to his feet, clutching his chest and downing the potion. "T-thank you. I won't forget this."

He wobbled past her, not looking back. Alana watched his retreating back until he was in the passageway and she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. _'A warrior does not kill unnecessarily and we hate the ugly necessity of each life we take. It's that which keeps us from being mindless killers.' _

Alana twirled her sword above her head before resting it against her shoulder. _'I think this is what Akatosh meant. He wanted me to be able to help others atone for their sins, so they may know peace in the afterlife when they pass. He chose me despite knowing the amount of wrong I've done because he believed no one else could do it.' _

She started to walk down the hallway, stepping over the obvious pressure plates the Morag Tong had no doubt set up to ward off intruders. However, one would have to be a complete and utter fool to not notice them; the damn things were bright red for Talos' sake. _'Like I'm going to be so dense as to fall for such a simple trick. You Tong really need to work on your subtlety; this is embarrassing for a guild of assassins.' _

When Alana reached the end of the hallway, she could see that the middle of the chamber was submerged in water. Stairs led into the water and out on the other side, but it would be a little difficult getting over there. Standing on the other side in heavy chitin armor and with four Morag Tong assassins guarding him was the traitor himself, Vendil Ulen.

"You!?" Vendil's eyes widened when he saw the blonde. "You're…you're the one they call the Black Swordswoman!?" His shock wore off and his gaze hardened, reaching for two glass daggers. "No matter. You will die like Lleril!"

"Heh. Not the first person who said that." Alana grinned and spun her sword in her hands. "Bring it on."

"Kill her!" Vendil screamed.

Two of his guards aimed longbows at her, loosing their arrows. Alana rolled under them and hid behind a tough stone pillar for a moment, cursing herself once again for not bringing her crossbow. _'Dammit! I really ought to have prepared more. I don't know if my magic will do much.'_

'_Wait, I can change the tide of this. I still have my Dragonborn powers.' _Her mouth opened and she let loose a Shout. **"Tiid Klo Ul!" **Time slowed down to a crawl and she made her move, springing out of cover. Alana leapt with her sword swinging, cleaving the two archers in half. Their mangled bodies fell to the ground and she took out a third with a powerful slash through the chest, preparing an Ice Spike spell.

The Shout wore off and time returned to normal. Vendil's daggers were in his hands and he spun, trying to cut her open. The cold malachite brushed against the fabric of her shirt, tearing it open at the stomach.

Alana smiled as her eyes met his, standing still. "You're done for." Vendil looked down and saw the jagged spear of ice currently below where his heart would be. Even heavy armor couldn't resist a powerful spell designed to impale just about anything short of a dremora lord.

He stumbled back, his daggers falling from his hands with a clatter. "House Hlaalu…will have…its revenge."

"Maybe. But not today." Alana stepped back and kicked him into the water. He sank like a rock and the blonde slid her sword into her holster. It was finally over now. The plot to murder Councilor Morvayn had been thwarted.

However something was off. There were only four bodies on the floor. _'Wait a minute. Didn't that one say there were five back here? Where the hell is the fifth!?' _Clockwork was back in her hands and she spun around to see the remaining dunmer climbing up a ladder. "Why you…" _'Slippery little bastard. He must have cast an invisibility spell to hide. Tch. Bloody coward.' _

Alana ran after him, climbing up as fast as she could. She reached the top of the citadel and curled her lip in a snarl as he peered over the edge. "It's over. There's nowhere for you to run."

The assassin took off his helmet and smiled, facing her. Long silver hair flowed freely and her blood ran cold as she met a set of catlike green eyes. _'Impossible…it can't be! I killed him over a year ago!' _

"How very nice to see you again, Alana." He smiled and Alana charged him with a growl. Clockwork swung in a mighty arc, but it hit a magical barrier instead of striking her enemy down. She watched in horror as a long odachi sword formed in his hands and he swung it, shoving her back.

Alana got to her feet and watched him land gracefully on the edge of the tower, glaring. He glanced briefly at her exposed right arm. "So, your curse has been lifted. That's too bad."

"What do you want!?" Alana hissed, gripping her sword tight.

"The ghosts of those killed by the daedra," he answered calmly. "In time, those trapped in Oblivion will circle Aetherius, corroding it. Corrupting it. What I desire, Alana, is to break the barriers that keep our planes separate. With them gone, we will create a shining new future."

"What about this plane?" she hissed.

Her enemy smiled coldly and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's up to you, Alana."

The two stared at each other briefly before they leapt, swords clashing. Alana's sword met his and she struggled to keep her footing. He was just as strong as he was over a year ago, whereas she was not. She was still recovering from her wounds from her suicide and she could feel her arm beginning to throb as she blocked a deadly slash aimed at her throat.

'_Dammit, I'm not fast enough!' _Alana gritted her teeth in frustration and cast an Ice Spike spell at him. The elf sidestepped and cut the frosty spear in pieces. _'What!? How!?' _

Alana sprung the second sword into her hand and began to swing both heavy blades. The dunmer continued to evade the aetherium treated swords, dodging and ducking with uncanny grace. _'Dammit, even dual wielding I can't take him down!' _He was a master of his art; it wasn't a stretch to say that his odachi was essentially a part of his body with the way he used it.

Alana put Clockwork back together and gave a powerful downward slash. The heavy sword hit nothing but the ground and the elf sprinted up it. His odachi glanced her cheek, blood beginning to trickle down the side of her face and the wound beginning to sting.

Alana yanked her sword out and swung again, this time meeting the odachi that nicked her. The two struggled for a moment, only for him to slide his blade down and catch it under the handle. She watched as her blade was ripped from her hands, spinning in the air and landing behind her. She had never been disarmed so easily before.

Before she could react she was kicked hard in the chest and flew backwards, landing next to her sword in a cloud of dust. _'I've had it with this!' _She yanked her sword out of the ground and was cloaked in a bright blue aura, positively seething now. She dragged the tip of her sword on the ground as she charged her enemy, leaping up to give a powerful downward swing.

However, she felt a searing pain in her chest and her movement was halted. The magical aura surrounding her disappeared and she could feel her grip on her zweihander loosening, letting out a cry of pain. _'N-no…not like this!' _

The dunmer smiled at her, chuckling a little. "The pain I made you feel once before, so long ago. How about I remind you? This time you won't forget."

Alana's eyes widened and the sword was removed from her chest. She stumbled and struggled to raise her blade up to parry another blow, but her enemy found his mark. She let out a weak scream of pain as she was stabbed again in the chest and stomach. She fell to her knees and was kicked again, landing on an ashy hill opposite of the tower.

Blood was pouring out of every wound now and she struggled to find the handle of her zweihander. Crimson rivers dripped down her body and she found Clockwork, using the broad blade to prop herself up.

"Tell me what you treasure most," the elf said behind her, his silver mane flapping behind him. "I want the pleasure of taking it from you."

He leapt to cut her down and the faces of everyone Alana held dear flashed before her eyes. Astrid, Saoron, Ulfric, Ralof, Tolfdir, Brynjolf and Serana. Soon, everything was white and she heard the comforting voice of someone she hadn't heard speak since she died. _"So what if it looks hopeless? If it were me, I still wouldn't give up." _

"S-serana?" Alana rasped. "But…how?"

"_Be free. You are in control of your own fate," _Serana murmured, brushing one of the bloodstained locks of her hair. _"Sure, you've made horrible mistakes. But you atoned for them, right?" _

Alana nodded and stood up, finding strength in her words.

"_Do you need a hand with him?" _Serana asked.

The blonde shook her head, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "No. I've beaten him once before. I'll do it again."

Serana smiled. _"There's the Alana I know and love. You remember what I told you, right?" _

"That's right. I'll live for the both of us." The world returned to normal and Alana met the dunmer's odachi with her own sword, parrying the blows aimed at her throat. She shoved him back and wiped her cheek.

"I pity you. You will never understand," she growled. "There's nothing I _don't_ cherish!" Her black wing sprung out of her shoulder and she twirled Clockwork above her head twice, channeling her magic through the mighty blade.

Their swords met again and Alana smiled as she pressed on the handle of it. The second sword sprung into her hand and she landed a blow, cutting him through the chest. The dunmer let out a weak gasp of pain and Alana pressed her advantage, landing several more hard blows on his chest, black mist pouring out of the wounds.

Alana finished it off with one piercing blow straight through him and she stared at his slowly disappearing form. "Stay where you belong. As nothing but a bitter memory."

The dark elf sputtered and coughed, but he disappeared in a cloud of dark mist. Alana fell to her knees with her enemy dead, letting out pants of exhaustion as her weariness finally started to get the better of her.

"Thank you, Serana…" Alana looked up at the sky and smiled, blood still pouring out of her wounds.

'_You don't hate me. You never did. I think I can finally rest a little easier now, hearing you say you love me.' _

_**A/N: So to make up for my delay, I reward you with a nice 7K chapter. I can live with that XD. Though I seriously wish I had this one out sooner. Thank you all for reading and have a good day! Drop a review if you liked it! See you!**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	14. Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 6

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 14! Last chapter saw Alana fighting off her old adversary and making peace with Serana. Now we get to go back to Skyrim for a brief moment and start the Dragonborn DLC officially. I know, I know. I've waited fourteen fucking chapters to do that. Sorry. XD**_

**Whispers of the Night**

_Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…_

***Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 6***

Alana grimaced in pain as she slowly dragged Clockwork behind her, the large sword leaving a thin trail in the ash wastes. Her limbs burned with the effort and her blood continued to drip out from her wounds, but she kept going, ignoring the discomfort. She had been on the move for an hour now and each step was agony, but she refused to give up and die in the ashlands. She had too much pride to just keel over and bleed out. _'I am not just going to give up and die. Not anymore.' _

Several bloodstained locks of hair stuck to her face and she paused to brush them away, panting heavily. _'Damn this hurts. But no matter what I have to keep going. I made a promise to Serana that I would live for the both of us. I'm not going to break that promise now. Not after I came this far.' _She tried to focus her restoration magic on her wounds, but there were simply too many of them for her to heal at once; her magic sputtered and died on her fingertips and she patted her satchel to try and find any potions inside.

Her hand hit the hard glass of one and she pulled it out with shaking hands. A potion of regeneration; perfect. Just what she needed. She bit down on the wooden stopper and yanked it out, grimacing at the awful taste of it. _'Here it goes.' _Alana raised the vial to her lips and she downed it in a hurry. The familiar taste wasn't the most pleasant, but it was more than enough to reinvigorate her and keep her from bleeding out. _'If only my magic was stronger. I could heal myself without having to worry about whether or not I have potions on me.' _

She felt her wounds start to close up as the potion worked its way through her system and she winced. Having the powers of a Divine or not, healing potions still stung something fierce when one was as injured as she was. She didn't like that she took as many hits as she did during the battle with her old adversary from last year, but she knew it would be impossible for her to get through that fight completely unscathed. The two of them were almost a perfect match for each other in terms of skill and combat. He was more calm and composed while she was fiery and brash. What he lacked in raw power he made up for with agility, and vice versa.

'_I seem to do that a lot against opponents who are quicker than me,' _Alana mused. _'Too often I've relied on little more than brute strength. It helped me during the civil war when I was still learning how to use my Thu'um, but now? Now I need to focus on using my magical abilities again. Not exactly easy considering I haven't used them in over a year. Maybe longer.' _Her time as the Arch Mage of Winterhold seemed so far away now.

Or perhaps it wasn't. She was still capable of apprentice level destruction magic and she did have some sort of cleansing spell that was able to root out any impurities, effectively destroying them. _'I don't know what it's even called though; let alone how to use it at will. Akatosh didn't exactly give clear cut instructions. Typical Divines.' _She let out an unimpressed scoff.

Alana was able to stand up a little straighter now thanks to the potion's effects. Boosting her own regeneration process was always painful at first, but being a soldier had taught her how to deal with the discomfort. Compared to the wounds she picked up during the battle of Fort Sungard, these injuries were nothing. The blonde had fallen in and out of consciousness for two days after the battle, her body almost unable to handle the severe trauma.

She shielded her eyes as a gust of wind off of the sea tossed ash into her face, choking as some of it ended up in her throat. She doubled over to spit it out, wiping her mouth with a grimace. _'Ugh. I never wanted to taste that. But now that I have, I can confirm one thing. It tastes bloody awful.'_

The blonde rolled her eyes and summoned every last bit of her strength into putting Clockwork in its holster. Her limbs throbbed and burned in protest, but she bit her tongue and refused to cry out. Once the heavy sword was secured in the leather harness she breathed a sigh of relief. No longer would she have to resort to dragging the damn thing behind her like some sort of bloody horse. _'I swear it weighs more than even Requiem did even though its actually lighter. Maybe that's just a sign of me being exhausted and suffering from blood loss.' _

Her father's prized zweihander sword, the one he spent years forging, was currently gathering dust in the basement of her house back in Raven Rock. It was the weapon she used to strike back at a daedric prince and such a weapon did not deserve to sit away isolated like that. _'It belongs back home in Skyrim. But what should I do with it?' _

She frowned, yanking her foot up after it sank deep into the blanket of ash covering the southern half of Solstheim. _'It would be a disgrace to just leave it in a cave somewhere. No, there's only one thing that it should be used for now. To serve as a memory and honor those that I've lost.'_ Yes, that sounded perfect. The sword could serve as a memory to those who had fallen and as a reminder of the promise she had made to Serana.

She was thankful when Raven Rock loomed into view, a small and weary smile forming on her face. Her limp had all but disappeared and she moved with much more vigor, moving as fast as she could. Exhaustion ate away at her bones and she started the familiar descent down the ashy trail into the town. _'Almost there. When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is taking a hot bath. Talos knows I need one.'_

She took one whiff of herself and nearly gagged. She absolutely reeked of sweat and blood. _'Definitely a bath. Talk about revolting. I don't think I've been this filthy since the time the Sanctuary got attacked by the Penitus Oculatus.' _

The Bulwark was only a few short steps ahead and she could see a few sentries posted along its walls. The dunmer soldiers all held elven bows in their hands but lowered them when they saw who she was. A few excited murmurs just out of earshot echoed above, but she was willing to bet they were talking about how she was the daedra hunter. _'I don't mind them knowing, but I don't want them to treat me any differently. I may be the one who has been keeping them safe at night, but at the same time, I'm no different than Saoron is.'_

She limped past a few of soldiers standing guard at the entrance to the prisons and they both gave her subtle nods. While they might have not spoken, the simple gesture was enough for the blonde to know that they respected her despite that she was not a dunmer.

The temple that housed shrines of the Tribunal was across from Councilor Morvayn's manor shone brightly, hundreds of tiny candles lighting the balcony gardens of scathecraw and trauma root. The miniscule flames flickered, giving off an eerie glow, and Alana glanced briefly at the heavy entrance. For a moment she wondered if she should ask the elder in charge if Astrid had indeed come inside looking for someone or something; she hadn't forgotten about the young boy who had mistakenly approached her assuming she had been the one he spoke to. _'What did Astrid do? He was obviously abused by one of the priests who tend to the shrines. I wouldn't put it past her to murder them.'_

Despite what Astrid insisted, she was not a mere cold blooded killer. She picked her targets out rather well, though Alana could spot a theme of her victims being among her. Astrid did have a bit of a soft spot for those who had suffered at the hands of others. She'd never admit it, of course; when teased by Nazir of being quite a soft woman instead of the dangerous and seductive assassin she pretended to be, she hissed out about how she would strange the Redguard man with his own intestines and then boil them in a stew. She was old fashioned like that.

'_No. If someone did that kind of deplorable act, then they shouldn't be redeemed. There are some actions you can never forgive and that is one of them.' _Alana shook her head and continued on, finally reaching the Morvayn manor and leaving a trail of blood behind her. Her wounds still throbbed, but she could handle the pain for at least a little longer. She had endured much worse before.

She could see some large candles still lit in the windows and dark shapes moving about inside, so it was safe to assume they were expecting her. Not wanting to keep the councilors waiting any longer she pushed her shoulder against the door, wincing as she opened it.

Inside the luxurious manor, Adril was indeed waiting for her return. He had just finished eating dinner and looked up upon her entry, frowning when he saw her wounds. "Alana! What in the name of Azura happened to you!?"

"If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy," Alana joked weakly, clutching her side as her hoarse laugh made her ribs ache. "Don't worry about me. I'll live. Vendil is dead and so are the Morag Tong assassins he hired."

"I'm glad you got rid of him. To think he'd stoop so low as to hire those fletchers…" Adril shook his head in disgust and stood up, the two shaking hands. "Wonderful. Simply wonderful. Councilor Morvayn will be pleased to hear this. I'll take you to him now."

"No need." Councilor Morvayn had started to descend the stairs to the kitchens, clad in exquisite furs and red eyes gleaming in curiosity. "Adril. I haven't seen a smile on your face like that in a very long time."

"Lleril." Adril nodded in greeting gesturing to Alana. "This woman has single handedly saved you from an assassination plot that would have taken your life. I'm afraid that Mirri, Tilisu, and Vendil Severin were not who we thought they were. In fact, they were here to avenge Vilar Ulen's death."

"I don't want to believe it." Morvayn shook his head in disbelief. "Vendil's done so much for Raven Rock. How is this even possible?"

"They had us all fooled. It was merely a ruse to prevent our suspicion. I should have been more vigilant. I'm sorry," Adril apologized, bowing his head.

"Don't say that. It wasn't your fault, old friend," Morvayn reassured. He looked back at Alana and motioned for her to come forward. The blonde approached him and he too had a broad smile on his face. "What you've done for me, for all of Raven Rock, is something I'd have never expected from a foreigner to our lands. I'm not just talking about thwarting Vendil's assassination attempt. I also mean what you do when the rest of us are sound asleep in our beds."

"Thank you, councilor." Alana bowed her head. "I do my best to protect the town that welcomed me with open arms, even when I was at my lowest point."

"You've more than earned your citizenship," Morvayn said. "I can have the official documents written by tomorrow afternoon. Now, I expect that Adril was preparing to reward you handsomely for your efforts, but I feel as though you deserve something a little more substantial. A bit of coin is not enough. Since the Severin family, or whoever they were, turned out to be criminals, their property is now forfeit. I reward you the Severin manor and all of its contents within."

Alana nearly fell, though it wasn't from the shock of what she had been awarded. It was more down to her legs starting to give out on her and she smiled. "Thank you again, councilor." _'I ought to go home and rest. Divines know I need it.' _Even battle hardened warriors like herself needed time to recover.

She once again bowed her head in respect to the two dunmer men and left the manor behind, a weak smile on her face as she saw two wonderfully familiar faces approaching her. Saoron was jogging towards her, not clad in his heavy steel armor for once. Alongside him was Astrid and the blonde assassin's bright golden eyes widened in shock when they got closer.

"Alana! What the hell!? What happened!?" Astrid demanded.

Alana's knees buckled and she toppled forward like a sack of flour. Thankfully, Astrid was able to keep her from falling facefirst in the dirt and she looked up at her with a grin. "Aren't I normally the one saving you?"

Astrid thumped her below her ribs for her remark and she winced. "Be careful, will you? I think I broke something."

"You're covered in blood…what did you do?" Saoron asked, his hands becoming cloaked in Healing Hands. "For the love of Talos please do not tell me you went into a burial chamber with another dragon priest in it."

"No." Alana shook her head, closing her eyes with a wistful sigh. It was nice being cradled by Astrid again, even if the circumstances could be better. "Just stopped an assassination plot by Vendil Severin and took out the Morag Tong he hired. Oh, and don't let me forget, killed a certain daedric prince's champion again. That's who did this." She winked one eye open and gestured to her battered body.

Astrid huffed and helped her back onto her feet, throwing her arm over her shoulder. "You are a real handful, you know that? Why didn't you tell us?"

"It wasn't like I exactly planned on going out of town." Alana rolled her eyes. "It just sort of happened. Besides, the councilor is safe and sound. I can take a beating or two if it means protecting you."

"You seem different." Saoron frowned in concentration as he finished mending the last of Alana's injuries, his magic fading away. "More…at ease. I was so used to you being troubled that this almost seems strange to me."

Alana let out a soft chuckle, thinking of the last conversation she had with Serana when she was facing off against Boethiah's champion. "You could say that I've made peace with a demon that had been plaguing me for a long time."

Confusion flickered across Astrid's face for a moment, only to be replaced by understanding. She'd understand it more than even Saoron would, having seen how much Serana meant to her. "I see. So, what will you do now?"

"Before or after I go to sleep for a month?"

"After, you damn angst angel."

"Hey!" Alana turned to give her a teasing glare.

"She's not wrong." Saoron yawned in a horrible attempt to hide his laughter. "You keep it up and people around here will start calling you some ridiculous name. They already know you as the woman brooding in the bloody cornerclub all day."

"I do not." Alana huffed. "I promise you that I was sober when I went out. Not even a single ale."

"Good." Astrid gave her a hard stare, jabbing her in the chest with her forefinger. "You need to stop consuming that poison. It does you more harm than good."

"Careful." Alana winced. "And I know. I know that." _'I only did it to take my mind off of things. But all I did was simply numb the pain for a little bit and then I'd be again ruined by grief. Looking back at that, it was really foolish of me to think it would do me any good.' _

Astrid helped Alana limp back to her home, pushing the door open with a grunt. Saoron had of course draped of Alana's arms over his shoulders to assist Astrid with the effort. "Maybe you ought to not carry around a weapon that weighs half as much as you do for once."

"Hey it's lighter than Requiem is," Alana defended. _'I need to move it. Requiem can't stay in my basement.' _

"Keep telling yourself that." Saoron chuckled, his rough hands ruffling her bloodstained hair. "It's nice to have you back."

"It's good to be back." Alana closed her eyes and let out a soft hum before she unclipped her holster. Her zweihander fell to the ground with a loud clatter and both Saoron and Astrid stood back to let her get undressed. Her typical black attire was covered in ash and blood and would need a very thorough wash.

"Please tell me you have something that you can use to bathe," Astrid said, looking at the bloodstains on her body. "You're utterly filthy."

"Thanks for the observation," Alana returned dryly, rolling her eyes. "And yes, there is a small bath in the basement."

"…why is it in the basement?" Astrid rubbed her head.

"Because Solstheim has an underground water vein," Saoron explained. "It's one of the few sources of untainted water on the island, save for a spring in the northern mountains. This home in particular needed one, seeing as it was once used to smuggle illegal contraband into the colony. I scouted it out for her specifically when she moved here."

"So…you live in a house that was essentially used for smuggling and Sithis knows what else. Why am I not surprised?" Astrid rolled her eyes and gave Alana an exasperated stare.

"Not anymore." Alana smiled and finished changing, limping downstairs to where the bath was. "Councilor Morvayn awarded me the Severin manor as thanks for stopping the assassination plot against him."

Saoron raised an eyebrow and looked at the blonde's belongings, hands on his hips with a sigh. "Let me guess. You need to move all of your stuff into it now."

"Yeah. Think you could lend a hand?" Alana asked. "Move everything except Requiem. I know you can't lift that thing by yourself." She smirked a little as she remembered how much he struggled with the Bloodskal Blade in the Raven Rock mine. It was amusing to think that he was a man of seemingly endless stamina yet could not wield a greatsword like her.

"No normal person can," Astrid shot back. "I doubt I could even with my newfound vampirism."

Alana winced as she remembered she was technically responsible for that. "How are you feeling, now that I think about it? Do you need to feed?"

"No. I had quite a nice drink earlier," the assassin replied with a dangerous purr, following her down. "Even if he was a sick bastard, he had a rather nice taste to him."

Alana sighed and it was her turn to be exasperated. "Let me take a guess. That dunmer boy who came to you told you about a priest doing something to him and you killed him without a second thought. That about right?"

"How did you sniff that one out? I was rather subtle…"

"The child came to me mistaking me for you."

"…oh." Astrid let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of her head. "Um, sorry?"

"Don't. If he was indeed doing that to a bloody child, then he's better off in the Void." Alana shook her head. _'There are some crimes that even I won't forgive. That's someone who is irredeemable. They took away a child's innocence. That's something that can never be given back.' _

Akatosh may have chosen her to bring light to others, but there were certain crimes not even she could forgive. _'A little strange thinking that, considering the things I've done myself. I've lied, cheated, stolen, and killed. But everything I've done hasn't taken away what good I have done. Some of my problems were my own fault. But Akatosh knew that a lot of them were daedric lies. No mortal could resist that many godlike beings trying to invade their mind, Dragonborn or not.' _

Saoron walked over to where a lone well sat in the basement and began to pump. His muscles bulged under his shirt as he heaved with all of his might, the rusty old metal creaking and groaning under the stress. His face slowly turned red from the efforts and a thin line of sweat formed on his brow but he continued away until the water from the underground pool spilled into the bath.

"There. That ought to do it." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, breathing heavily. "I'll go start the fire and start cooking. Divines know you could use a bite to eat."

"I'm not that hungry." Alana blushed a little as her stomach growled in disagreement. "I'm fine, I promise. Besides, I can tell you want to talk a little bit."

"You wouldn't rather wait?" Saoron asked.

"No. Better to get it over with." Alana eased her body into the water with a soft groan of content, the water soothing the aches in her body and taking out the harsh sting of her freshly healed wounds. "So, what do you want to ask?"

"Before when we found you by the shore, you said you were shocked that the gods chose you despite everything you had done," Saoron started. "I know you're not talking about your abilities as the Dragonborn, so what did you mean? Is it connected to that wing of yours? And why your vampirism is seemingly cured?"

"Yes." Alana nodded. "When I told you I spoke to my father, I did tell you the truth. But I didn't tell you everything."

"Suspected as much." Saoron folded his arms. "Alright, go on."

"I also spoke to Akatosh. Well, more like yelled at him for not being present at all and letting the daedra do whatever they wanted to me," the blonde sheepishly admitted. "After that, he cleansed me. I can't remember what it was exactly he called me, but he told me that I was his chosen one. A savior."

"Weren't you already prophesized to be one as the Last Dragonborn?" Astrid pointed out.

"Not quite." Saoron shook his head. "The Last Dragonborn was fated to slay Alduin and end the threat of the dragons' return to Tamriel. I have a feeling this is something different entirely. The Dragonborn isn't called a savior."

"I don't know what he did, but my magic's been affected too," Alana confessed. "Earlier on my way to Ashfallow Citadel, I ran across two mages. After I had slain them, I turned them into purified sand. It gave off this pure energy, like I had purged it of all corruption."

"Impossible." Astrid shook her head in disbelief. "There's no magic in the world that can do that."

"Not true," Saoron countered. "There _is_ a school of magic that simply cannot be taught, not even by a grandmaster mage. It's only rumored, of course, but it's the powers of the divine. For lack of better term, holy magic. Supposedly, only a true champion of the gods can use it. Their chosen ones, so to speak. Alana, you were already blessed by both Dibella and Akatosh."

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that my initial suspicions were right. There was a reason why the daedric princes were so obsessed with you and purposely meddling with your life. Alana…I don't want to believe that I'm right, but you're on your way to becoming one of them. You're essentially becoming a Divine."

"You knew? And you didn't tell me?" Alana was a little hurt by him keeping that knowledge a secret. "Why did you keep it a secret from me?"

"You wouldn't have believed me even if I told you," Saoron replied quietly. "Especially in your prior state of mind. You'd have seen it as something too ludicrous to be true and think that I was lying to you, making your condition even worse. By keeping quiet about it, I prevented yet another doubt from being seeded in your mind for Mephala to exploit. I'm sorry. I did what I thought was best at the time."

Alana let her initial hurt fade away and leaned back down into the bath, sighing. "I know. I don't blame you for it." _'That bitch fed on every doubt I had in my mind and used it as a weapon against me. No more. I'm ending this with my own two hands.' _

The blonde groaned out as the water numbed the pain of her injuries and she sat up a little taller. "I'm going to Skyrim again."

"You're leaving?" Saoron asked. "This town needs you, more than ever. Especially if both Mephala and Vaermina are making moves."

"I never said I was leaving completely," Alana returned smoothly. "I just have something I have to do. I need to do this. Please."

"So what, are we supposed to just sit here and wait?" Astrid asked with a sharp hiss.

"No." Alana shook her head and met Astrid's burning gaze. "Astrid…come with me. There's no one else I'd rather be with when I do this. Saoron's needed to keep the town safe and I trust him with that completely. But you…I want you by my side again."

Astrid mulled over it for a few seconds before letting out a huff, calming down. "Fine. Someone does need to make sure you don't run off and get yourself killed."

"Thank you." Alana got out of the bath and started to dry herself off. Her clothes were still upstairs and she gave Saoron a slightly embarrassed glance. "Um, mind leaving us for a few moments?"

Saoron caught the hint but did not blush in the slightest much to Astrid's amusement. Nothing ever really fazed him. He knew Alana way too damn well. "I'll go make a stew before you leave." He headed up the stairs and Astrid gave Alana an amused look.

"You said that for another reason didn't you?" she accused with a smirk.

"Did not." Alana huffed and hid her blush, turning away from her. "You have no evidence to support your claims."

"You're nude and I'm getting to marvel at a sight which seems to have only improved since I last saw it." The vampire looked at Alana's stomach and chest. "You seem even more fit than you did before."

"Please spare me having to hear you two go at it for some stress relief," Saoron called from above dryly. "Makes it hard to concentrate on cooking."

"You're no fun at all." Astrid let out a fake groan of protest.

Alana shook her head and covered herself with a weak towel, leaving tiny droplets of water in her wake. "I'm going to get changed…" _'Even if she's not being as cold to me, it still feels like she hasn't forgiven me quite yet. I suppose it was bound to happen; Astrid was never the most forgiving type of person.' _She could remember the various insults she had called her late husband on their way to Riverwood after the Sanctuary was attacked. By Sithis she probably still despised him even a year later.

"So, what is it that you were planning on doing when you go to Skyrim?" Astrid asked, following her. "Go back to the Sanctuary?"

"No." Alana fitted on a set of pants and a long sleeved shirt lined with furs. "I have to leave that part of my life behind. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret doing what I did. But I have to leave it behind. I'm not an assassin, Astrid. We both know it."

"Then what?"

"There was a reason why I told Saoron not to move Requiem and it isn't because he can't lift the damn thing. I have a use planned for it, but I don't want to do it alone. I'm planning on going back to Skyrim to use it as a monument."

"A monument?" Astrid tilted her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"I haven't told you this, but before I left, I made a promise to Serana when she died. I promised her that I would live for the both of us," Alana answered quietly, wetness stinging the corners of her eyes as she remembered that horrible fateful day. "I want to go back to where she passed and leave Requiem there to show her that I mean to keep it. I won't throw my life away unnecessarily anymore."

She wiped her eyes and stood strong against the wave of grief that flooded from her heart. _'I have too much to live for. You may be gone, Serana, but I promised you I would keep living. I am not going back on it, no matter what. I still have those dear to me.' _

Alana reached down to pull Requiem out of its hiding place, removing the cloth wraps covering the behemoth blade. The warm handle felt comforting in her hand and yet a part of her felt like she was abandoning an old friend. _'It has to be done. Even though it hurts to leave it, it's for the best. This is a monument to the past life I want to leave behind.' _

Alana would continue living, for the both of them. _'For the both of us, I'm going to be live and be free for the ones I live.' _

'_I won't ever break that promise.'_

_**A/N: Okay, so apparently we don't leave for Skyrim just yet. XD. I kind of got carried away a little bit and meant to include it, but I felt like saving it for the next chapter once I realized just how long this one ended up being. Whoops. Anyway, tell me what you think!**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


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